by Kenny Soward
“What do you want to know?”
“For starters, what was that fucking thing attached to my arm? The thing Krag put on me.”
Lonnie’s brow lifted. “Your arm?”
“Sorry. Left that part out.”
Jedi smiled from his bloody face as if his nose wasn’t sideways. “Oh, yeah. I can tell you that.”
“Go on.”
“Your dad. He’s a big shot in the ECC, right?”
Bess pursed her lips. “Yeah. What about him?”
But then they were moving too fast through the tunnels, half-stumbling in the dark. Bess’s answers would have to wait.
Lonnie’s eyes adjusted to this part of the Under River, which clearly saw less use than anywhere else. Just a few meager electric lanterns and some cones filled with a strange, bio-luminescent moss lighting the place in an eerie green glow. It threw subtle shadows everywhere, the color of mud blending together in browns and greens and swirls of black, and the hard-packed dirt floor in fair disrepair with its share of divots and rough spots.
Each hall lead to successive chambers and tunnels, similar in size and shape and angle. Gruff often slowed, running his hand against the roof and pulling his fingers through the mud. “Oh, my children,” he’d say as tentacles slithered just under the surface at his touch. “Charlotte, Uan, and Jarnish. Fight, my children. Fight!”
Something huge was happening in the river. An epic battle between Gruff’s river children and whatever was trying to get at them. Lonnie winced at every new rush and rumble, every swell in the ceiling, positive the roof would collapse at any moment. A glance at the troubled old man and Lonnie’s heart sunk. This was Lonnie’s fault. Partly, at least. But he was determined to keep Jedi alive until he found out one-hundred percent who owned the rest of the responsibility.
The floor led them at random angles complete with ruts and rocks and other ankle-twisting obstacles. The size and scope of the place amazed him. The entire Under River was a huge complex held together by Gruff’s magic and the strength of his children.
And then the lamps grew scarce. Nothing to light their way but moss in the sconces or growing wild in patches on the wall.
They stopped in one chamber so Bess could grab a flashlight from her pack. Lonnie gripped Jedi as she tucked her gun back in its holster, grabbed her torch, and handed it to Lonnie. He flicked it on and pointed it around.
It was a large room, forty feet by thirty feet with a high ceiling and smooth floors. Crammed with crates and old boxes with dates on them Lonnie couldn't believe. One crate had Fairmount Shipping Co. To Union Terminal, Cincinnati, OH stenciled on the side. The date read 1912. Others went even further back. Some lay half opened and leaking rotted straw while others were stacked three or four high against the wall.
Lonnie nudged Bess. “That one is full of old ammunition. Check out the shipping date. 1862.”
“Yeah, crazy.” Bess was still fiddling with her pack, but her eyes followed the flashlight beam.
Elsa and Ingrid wandered around, picking up things, gasping with wonder at the age of the relics.
“Look at this.” Elsa held up a sword and studied the engraving along the blade. “It says, ‘Commander Mason Daggett, U.S. Army.’” She cut the air with it a few times.
Ingrid had found a long spear decorated with old feathers. Native American, to be sure, she lifted it and gave three experimental thrusts. She looked strange with the basic weapon in one hand and the AR15 slung over her shoulder.
“Okay,” Bess called up, and the line moved again.
As they hustled through the tunnels, Lonnie picked at the thing on his stomach. It made him sick thinking of its hooks caught up in his flesh. And worse, he'd allowed it to happen. "Hey Jedi, we never got to the part about who told you to fuck me over."
"Right, I should tell you the only thing keeping me alive."
"Let me clue you in on something," Lonnie grumbled, squeezing Jedi's arm tight. "My sister and I have a history. You get between us, and there's only one outcome for you. I'm giving you a chance to remove yourself from between us, if you get my meaning. But maybe I've got it wrong. Maybe this was Krag's idea."
"No, you're right. Your sister is responsible. But you have to believe me when I say I didn't know her until two days ago. She showed up at our hideout looking pissed off."
Lonnie's gut turned. He wanted to curse, but clenched his emotion. "Hideout?"
"Yeah. We had to burn the Riverwalk house because of her." He tilted his head at Bess. "So Krag split to meet with the Turu Tukte, and the rest of us holed up at Angie's. That's where she found us. Don't ask how because she didn't say. She scared the shit out of everyone. Had a bunch of creepy fuckers with her. All dressed in black. Fucking Pinhead ninjas or something. Couple dudes tried to stop them and failed miserably. It was rough."
"Those were shadescreamers. Her bodyguards. What did she say?"
Jedi sputtered. "Wasn't a big talker. Told me your name. She said to find you and give you that thing. I figured you might be down here. Pretty common hiding spot for refugees if you can get in. Took a chance and got lucky."
Lonnie spat. "You're easy, man. Did whatever she wanted without a fight. You have any pride?"
"Nope. I'm a survivor. Fuck, should have heard what she'd do to me if I didn't find you. And, man, I believed her. She's one messed up chick."
"Right." Lonnie could understand that. But how accurately could she track him? "How do I get this fucking thing off? Any ideas?"
"No. I really don’t. I’m just a runner. I don’t do magic."
Lonnie nodded. He’d have to be satisfied with that until they could escape the Under River and find someone to remove it. He shouted up ahead. “Selix, ask Gruff about the portal. He said he made himself a portal, and that’s how he got here. If it's here, we can use it.”
“All right,” Selix called back.
Jedi slipped and Bess jerked him upright. “Walk, because I ain’t dragging you. And don’t think because I put my gun away can’t knock your head off with this.” Bess waived the flashlight around, sending light scattering.
“Oh, no. I didn’t think that once. You’re such a badass.”
“I hate sarcasm. Just letting you know.”
“Gotcha.”
They moved deeper into the Under River.
It grew cooler, and Lonnie supposed Gruff’s magic didn’t reach this deep.
If his sister was trying to flush them out, it was working. Lonnie squeezed his hand into a fist. He wasn’t afraid of her, almost welcomed the chance to see her again. To give her something to chew on. He didn’t know how, but Earth was his world, and he knew how to fight here.
They stopped again, another dark chamber filled with stacks of secrets. Lonnie hunched over, picked at the leech thing with his fingers.
“You okay?”
Lonnie nodded at Bess’s concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Bess offered what looked like an extremely sharp knife. “Here, give this a try.”
Lonnie took the knife, positioning the point between the disk and his skin. The damn thing seemed to have molded to him, glued with a white, pasty substance that smelled putrid. He angled the blade up and sawed.
Pain ignited in his side. The barbs lengthened and curved inward, deepening their hold on Lonnie’s flesh. Biting all the way to muscle. He pulled the knife free, and the pain eased.
When he was done gasping, he shook his head, saying, “The only way I’m getting this off is if I take half my stomach with it.”
“Damn.”
“Damn is right.”
Bess jerked Jedi around to face her. “You sure you can't get that leech thing off?”
“No. I swear.”
"All right," Bess said, handing Lonnie her flashlight and pulling her gun. "You got squared up with Lonnie, coming clean about his sister. But you're not square with me yet. You need to give me something."
Jedi shook his head, tears of pain leaking from his eyes and mixing with the
blood still streaming from his smashed nose. “If I tell you everything, then you’ll just shoot me.”
“I won’t,” Bess said.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m giving you my word.”
“Hah,”Jedi snorted, causing more blood to stream from his nostrils.
“Because you let me escape back there at Krag’s. I owe you for that, man.”
Jedi dwelt on that for a minute. His eyes, now puffy and purple, glowered warily at Bess. Then whatever resolve he had to keep the truth hidden melted away. “Okay, fine.”
Bess helped him up by his hoodie. Jedi got his wobbly legs under him, balanced himself, and addressed Bess after an uneasy glance at Lonnie. “I’ll start with your first question. Yes, your father is in trouble, because Krag’s moving on the Lexington Citadel. And that thing we had hooked up to your arm. You sure you want to know?”
Chapter 27
Mark Winters sat in the ECC control room with a warm cup of coffee in his hand. He took a sip, savoring the bitter black brew as he looked over monitors and double checked reports fed to him from ECC Lieutenant Stephanie Lark to his tablet PC.
The situation wasn't good. At least a dozen ECC operatives were dead or missing. Some safe houses had been completely compromised and several rural churches, their backbone, razed to the ground. They enemy had tried to get the Covington Basilica but a vigilant priest named Dan Vogt staved off a clutch of monsters single handedly. They’d lost communication with Vogt soon after. The Citadel’s in Atlanta, Georgia, and East Lansing, Michigan were still standing and operational, but everything else was up for grabs.
The worst part, he’d heard nothing from his daughter in a week. His stomach churned at the thought of her being injured or dead. His heart told him she was a survivor and smart and that she’d make it through this. His brain said he was stupid to have ever let her continue training with the ECC. That he hadn’t worked hard enough to steer her clear of it. But Lord knew he’d done everything possible. The girl had inherited her mother's spark from an early age, and she couldn't be kept from doing the Lord's work.
Mark wanted to be angry at the Lord because He had taken so much from him already. Like Jephthah in the Bible, who’d sacrificed his own daughter, Mark had seen his wife pass so many years ago. And now, Bess. He knew their sacrifices were important for the safety of the human race, for the saving of humanity’s very souls, but these hard times tried his faith.
Only one operative had reported in and passed the triple-verification from a hacked ATM near Nashville Tennessee. Alexavier Rios, one of their best, and he was currently out of touch as he made his way back to Lexington to help them shore up their physical presence here.
Their entire infrastructure had been compromised. Likely someone on the inside leaking a few codes to deep hackers enlisted by fade rippers who’d performed the attack. As a last resort, the ECC had shut down their systems, isolated and destroyed the virulent code, and rebooted. They’d retrieved data from backups, vetted, and restored it.
Communication was returning, piece by piece. Their systems coming online. These small victories would have to be good enough. Nothing else to do until the new emergency encryption bands were distributed and they recovered their remaining operatives. Already, assault teams were forming to make rescue runs. But they were so short staffed that cadets were being paired with veterans.
It took all his strength to stem the fear. It was a test from the Lord. But they’d been tested before. Fade rippers had been trying to destroy the ECC since the day man set foot in the New World. Witches conjuring demons and other things into the land to protect their wicked, free societies without benefit of rule of law. The Stilldeath of 1792. The Wrathborn Incursion of 1912. And during each and every public war in this country’s history, other dark wars raged behind the scenes as fade rippers took advantage of the human propensity to brutalize their own kind.
Stephanie Lark strode into the room and joined Mark without so much as a nod to the other controllers. She wore a pair of jeans, flats, and a collared shirt and sweater covering her modest bosom over which a delicate silver cross hung.
“Hey, Steph.”
“Hey, Mark. Just wanted to let you know we’ve re-established connection with Europe. They’re handling it as well as can be expected. Leadership is intact.”
“Good. That’s excellent news.”
“And here we’ve got text capabilities back on a secure channel. Any operatives out there should be able to use their existing devices with no problem. If they still have them. I suggest we try to scramble-reach everyone…”
Praise God! And it took everything Mark had not to take out his cell phone and check for messages from his daughter. This week had encapsulated a new degree of torture. They’d never been out of contact more than two days her entire life. At the very least, she sent him frowns or smiley emoticons in reply to his ridiculously geeky memes. Little things to cheer her up or encourage her in the Lord’s name.
“…we’re still working on voice communication but those may still be tapped. Oh, and email is back up.”
Mark looked at his tablet sitting on the console. He had fifty-two new messages and more piling up on the little icon. A thrill of excitement tickled his belly. Also, dread. One of those messages had to be Bess, but he was afraid to look. He certainly didn’t want to read them in front of Steph.
What if Bess was trapped somewhere like that poor girl in Steadmonton who, in desperation to reach someone from the ECC, had resorted to posting on a compromised message board. Of course, the ECC could not openly respond to her, but her efforts were noted and Mark made sure her case would be one of the first investigated. In fact—
“Are you confident we can roll out the rescue teams?”
Steph’s soft blue eyes held no hesitation. “Yes. I recommend we do it right away. Our people are chomping at the bit. We’ll start with the girl in Steadmonton and then—”
“Good. Let’s do it. Get them rolling. What about—”
“Bess?” Steph was nodding, her mouth forming a demure smile. “We might not have to go after her. Check it out.”
Steph tapped on her tablet and the control room’s primary screen flipped to a new image. Camera #23 overlooking the front of the grounds and part of the road coming up to the Lexington compound. A black Dodge Charger crept up the lane. Bess’s Charger! With the night vision, he could see the damage to the bumper and grill, but the vehicle was otherwise untouched.
“Praise God.”
“Praise Him indeed.” Steph’s smile beamed.
Mark watched the car roll up to the main gate and stop.
“I’ve got this one,” he told the others in the room and then, wrinkling his brow, patched into the feed there. He looked through the camera at his daughter, his little girl. Those cheeks (once chubby) he used to snatch. Those rich, dark eyes that had grown a fraction lighter as she aged. That half smile of hers that always fell flat and humorless. She was a serious soul, his Bess, and all he had left.
“Hey, Bess.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“You, okay?”
His daughter nodded, winced. “I’m hurt though, Daddy. I’m hurt.”
“Well, come on in and we’ll get you taken care of. I want you to tell me all about it.”
“Okay, Daddy. I’m hurt.”
Mark stood up from his chair, a sense of unease touching his spine.
“Mark, we need a code,” Steph said.
“Nonsense. That’s my daughter. And I’m going to get her.”
He left his tablet sitting on the console next to the coffee, pushed past Steph, and exited the room. As he hurried down the hall, he vowed to never let this happen again. Not to the ECC. Not to his little girl!
They’d redouble their recruiting efforts, even allowing non-believers and mercenaries into the Order. They'd seek the help of the Freemasons and Templars. Not unheard of, but the organizations hadn’t worked together in over two-hundred ye
ars. It would take a lot of work. A lot of compromise.
He’d sacrifice a million hours if that’s what it took. He’d sacrifice his pride, beg and plead if he must.
An incursion like this will never happen again. Ever. God willing.
And then he went to see to his daughter.
Chapter 28
“There’s another me out there? Are you kidding?” Bess had the front of Jedi’s hoodie again, shaking him until he collapsed to his knees. Her voice quavered, somewhere in between rage and primal fear. “You assholes made a copy of me to trick the ECC? My father?”
“Not exactly a copy. A doppelgänger. A creature that mimics other living beings. Knows enough about you to get by.”
“And then it’s too late.”
“Right. It wasn’t an option until recently. Until they stole your codes.”
“A two-pronged attack.”
“Yeah.”
Bess’s gun whipped up, and the barrel slammed between Jedi’s eyes. She grimaced, jaw clenched shut, exhaling with a pained noise that caused Lonnie to step out of the way before he could get caught in a spray of Jedi’s blood and brains.
“Hey,” Jedi pleaded. “You said you wouldn’t kill me if I told you. You promised.”
Bess held the gun to his head a moment longer, weapon shaking, chest heaving in hyperventilated breaths. And just when Lonnie thought Jedi was going bye-bye for good, Bess jerked the barrel away. “No, I won't kill you. But know this, you live by God’s grace and His grace alone.” She backed up, caught her breath, and began the slow descent from whatever dangerous plateau she’d been about to leap. She pointed the flashlight back the way they’d come. “See you later.”
Jedi, now free, gazed down the dark and lonely hall. The place shook again, a resonant vibration that made him stop and hesitate. He looked back at them.
“Go on. Get out of here. This is your doing.” Bess gave Jedi one more hard look, spun and grabbed her backpack, and started after the crew.
Lonnie caught up with her. “Hey, you okay?”