Banshee Screams

by Clay Griffith

  The footsteps were loud and the floor shook with their coming. Miller inched back next to redheaded Fitzpatrick's broad frame. Ngoma lifted his rifle. The Rangers instinctively reached for their throats and pulled bandannas up over their noses and mouths. They waited, all looking like Old West outlaws.

  A large, bald figure suddenly filled the doorway. Four more like him stood behind in the hallway. The figure's clothes were baggy and soiled; his flesh was gray and decaying. His left cheekbone sagged so heavily that a bare spot over his temple had begun to show, pulled apart by the weight of the flaccid skin. An old bullet hole showed prominently in his throat. A greenish fluid oozed from it. His body had numerous orifices from which liquid leaked. Wet stains dotted his uniform.

  His garb was that of a captain in the Syker Legion. This particular syker had been killed by anouks twenty years ago in one of the most famous battles in Banshee history.

  Now he was walking again.

  He spoke. "Where is the assailant?" His gravel voice was punctuated by a distinct whistling as the air slipped through the hole in his throat.

  "The situation is under Ranger control, Captain Marat," Debbi responded, her voice muffled by her bandanna. "We'll take care of it."

  The zombie syker turned a dead eye on Debbi. "He's a dangerous criminal. We'll remove him so that he does not endanger anyone further."

  "You can try," Fitzpatrick growled, his finger reflexively hovered over the touchpad affixed near the trigger of his gun.

  The zombie's eyes immediately dropped down to follow Fitz's motion. Two of the other zombies behind him moved closer and raised their weapons. The Captain waited. An insect scrambled out of his partially opened mouth and skittered down his chest.

  Debbi swallowed hard against the bile that was pushing its way up her throat. "We'll escort the prisoner," she said firmly. "This is our arrest."

  Marat said, "This man attacked a Legionary patrol. Then he fled here where he began shooting randomly, endangering innocent citizens. We will take him."

  "Not this time," Stew said. He stood in front of the babbling Ringo who was lost in a realm of madness and fear.

  "So be it." The Captain stepped farther into the room, flanked by two zombie thugs. His eyes began to crackle with energy.

  When he saw Captain Marat's eyes change, Stew filled his mind quickly with mindless hatred, with visions of stomping the Captain's face into the dirt he crawled out of.

  It brought a smile to Marat's face.

  Debbi saw in an instant what was transpiring. Damn it! Marat was probing their minds. She felt the telltale probe, but easily deflected it. Since the Legion came to Temptation, Debbi had come to realize she had an unusual ability to resist syker probes and attacks. She didn't know why, but she was grateful for it. She had trained all the Colonial Rangers on a few basic mind block techniques, but there were too many sykers here to keep them all out. She needed to diffuse the situation fast.

  Debbi shoved Stew back and held the other Rangers in place with a withering glare. She understood their anger and their frustration at letting the Legion dictate command, but force was on the enemy's side this time. They commanded an army of nearly a thousand while the Colonial Rangers in Temptation numbered barely a dozen. As much as she wanted to fight, she knew that starting something here and now would only lead to disaster.

  She turned back to Marat. "We'll accompany you to the jail. Let Captain Ross make the call."

  "If you wish." The Captain smiled, his gray lips pulling back over blackened teeth. Without a gesture or a nod of his head, two of the creatures behind him stepped forward to collect Ringo. A silent communication was passing among them all. Words were unnecessary.

  Miller and Fitzpatrick wouldn't budge from their protective stances and had to be forcefully shoved aside by the two dead Legionnaires. They yanked Ringo to his feet. The young Ranger screamed.

  "Oh God, don't let them take me! They're dead! They're dead! I'm begging you!"

  "It's okay," Debbi insisted, trying to reassure him. "We're going with you, Ringo. Ross will set this straight. Don't worry." To the two zombies, she snarled, "Take it easy with him."

  They ignored her and held the squirming, terrified man between them as they exited the room. Debbi and her squad fell in behind them.

  Debbi's face was twisted tight against her anger. The Rangers had lost control over their town and it was a bitter pill to swallow. And it didn't matter that they didn't like it because there was a dead army shoving it down their throat. There was nothing that could be done to stop it. Not one damn thing.

  Stew's voice was a hushed breath in her ear. "Ease down. They're not going to have to be mind readers to know what you're thinking."

  "Well, when they do read it, they're going to get more than they bargained for." The words emerged clipped and harsh, her jaw clenching as she fought for control.

  "I'm glad I can't read your mind then." There was a half smile on his face.

  Drawing in as deep as breath as she could, she struggled to return it. Her muscles relaxed a bit. "Get Fitz and Miller up in front. If nothing else, it will look like we're in charge. Maybe it will calm Ringo down."

  "The only thing that will calm Ringo down is one of the Doctor's dreamland pills. But I'll tell them." Stew slipped back and soon two Colonial Rangers jogged up to take the lead, their feet kicking dust back onto the zombies.

  Surprisingly, Captain Marat said nothing and made no move to displace them. Ringo quieted somewhat, or maybe it was just his mind finally shutting down from the horror of what was transpiring.

  Debbi couldn't really blame the young Ranger. Temptation, once a jewel of human colonialism on Banshee, was now desolate and putrid. No one walked the streets that didn't have to. Shops were open, but there were few shoppers. Despite the good weather, all windows were closed to keep out the stench. Those few hearty souls that did venture out scurried to their destinations with fear emblazoned in their faces. Everyone prayed that they would slip unnoticed past the cold, lifeless eyes of the squads of Legionnaires roaming the streets. These squads of undead were supposed to be patrolling for criminals, helping the Rangers enforce the law. In reality, they were horrific Praetorians that served as a galling reminder to citizen and Ranger alike that the Syker Legion held power in Temptation.

  The undead patrols in town weren't even the sum total of the loathsome things. The bulk of the Legion waited outside the town walls, standing stiff as boards in the Banshee wind.

  The worst part of the whole hellish situation for Debbi was that the commander of the Colonial Rangers, Dave Ross, was responsible for it. He had escorted the Legion into the city past the shocked Rangers only a month ago. They all trusted him and he used that fact to lull them into an uneasy acceptance of the horrible things. By the time some of them began to realize that all was not as it seemed, Ross had already given the zombies the key to the city.

  Getting it back would take a fight.

  And a damn ugly one.

  Chapter 2

  "Stay out here," Debbi said to Stew and the other Rangers.

  None of them wanted to hear that. They immediately began to argue, but Debbi silenced them with a hand.

  The undead Legionnaires dragged Ringo into the Ranger headquarters and slammed the door on his frantic whimpering. The gathered Rangers stood outside in the dark, dusty street.

  "If they take Ringo," Stew commented quietly, "any of us could be next."

  Debbi nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm trying to keep their focus on me. I don't want them to associate any other Rangers with trouble. If they go after somebody, it needs to be me."

  "Ross won't let them take Ringo," Fitz said, still fired up. "That's one thing he won't stand. Neither will we. I'm not of afraid of them."

  "I am," Debbi countered. "I know you all care about Ringo, but a show of force isn't going to buy us anything. Not yet. The less contact we all have with them or Ross right now, the better our chances in the long run."

/>   She stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk outside headquarters and turned back to her companions. "All of you go make contact with the Night Watch and militia. Let them know what's happened and that Ringo has been arrested. I don't know how bad the stink's going to get, but we want everyone to be ready." She tapped her forehead. "And remember what I taught you. Be mindful. We don't want any mind-reading screwing up our plans now."

  Stew watched her intently with his penetrating blue eyes, hesitating to leave her. He removed his hat and scrubbed at his close-cropped fair hair. Finally he nodded, replaced his hat, and walked away. The others quietly scattered into the chilled town.

  Debbi took a breath. To buy a few calming seconds, she pulled down her bandanna, took a tube of camphor gel, and smeared some under her nose to fight the stench she knew would fill the office. She wasn't sure she was ready for this. Confronting Ross had never been high on her list of things to do; now it was lower than ever. Over the past few weeks, the few times they'd had contact had unnerved her. He would stare at her with someone else's eyes and her fragile, calm demeanor would shatter. Now, as she contemplated facing him, she felt her fear well up like black oil from the pit of her stomach.

  She shoved it back down, allowing her anger to flare instead, and she clung to that. Temper would carry her past this moment. Quantrill would most likely be with Ross and she hated him most of all. Her rage flamed higher and it raced through her veins until she thought her skin was on fire.

  She threw open the door.

  Captain Marat was closing the door to the lock-up. Two undead troopers lounging against the wall stared dully at her as she entered.

  As bad as the smell was on the street, here in an enclosed room it was nearly intolerable. Debbi pulled up the bandanna again. All Rangers made a show of putting them on around the zombies. They had taken refuge in such small acts of revolution to give them some solace against the creeping helplessness they felt.

  Waving her hand in front of her face, she snarled, "God Almighty! Open a window! You people stink."

  Debbi angrily slid up a window and stood taking deep breaths through the bandanna.

  Captain Marat crossed the room and purposefully closed the window, nearly crushing her fingers. Debbi's eyes glared at the rotting face from over the edge of the green cloth.

  Marat priggishly rubbed a cured, blackened finger over the surface of a desk and held it up for her to see. "Dust. Keep it closed."

  Debbi looked at the dead man for a long second. Then she pulled her big Colonial Ranger Dragoon from its holster and slammed it against the windowpane, shattering the glass. The Captain started, but her weapon was back in its holster before he could react.

  The wind rushed in carrying dust and blowing papers across the office. Debbi's red hair tousled wildly.

  "I like the breeze," she said.

  The door to Dave Ross's office opened.

  "What the hell is going on out here?" Ross asked, grim-faced.

  Debbi walked away from Captain Marat. "Nothing. Just a little discussion about the role of proper ventilation in everyday hygiene."

  For just a second, she expected a conspiratorial gleam from Ross's eye. She had struck another minor blow in the continuing skirmish between the Rangers and the Undead Legion. Then she had a heart-deadening realization.

  Ross wasn't on her side.

  He looked at her with eyes that were barely his. The surface rippled with the illusion of personality; all seemed normal. But just beneath that surface glint was a dark hole that used to be his core. His gestures weren't quite fluid. His stance wasn't quite solid. His expressions weren't quite complete.

  Some of the other Rangers were sure Ross was the still the Old Man, the same commander because he still shouted orders when he needed to and stared hard at slackers when he had to. They felt he had just made a deal with the Legion, distasteful as that was, that saved Temptation from the greater horror of the Reapers.

  Debbi knew differently.

  This man in front of her wasn't Dave Ross.

  Ross was under the influence of General Quantrill.

  She looked at the floor as she squeezed past him into his office. "I need to talk to you." She pulled her bandanna off her face.

  The office was a wreck. Ross was usually very organized. He didn't let work pile up and he was habitually tidy. It also didn't hurt that he owned little more than what he wore on his back. But now his formerly well-ordered sanctum was a morass of scattered papers and piled-up plates of spoiled food, something that Ross of old would never have allowed.

  Noting the uneaten food, Debbi realized with a shock that Ross was twenty pounds lighter than he had been two months ago when he left Temptation to scout Newcomb's algae farm on the Red River and somehow had fallen in with Quantrill's Legion. In the month since he returned with the Legion, she hadn't spent more than a few minutes alone with him and hadn't noticed the alarming decay in his physical condition until now. Ross had always been tall and lean, but he had been the model of health, robust and powerful. Now he was gaunt. His cheeks were sallow and his eyes were sinking into dark hollows. His normally short black hair was long and greasy and his usually well-trimmed beard had grown unkempt and scruffy. His filthy clothes hung on him like a scarecrow.

  She desperately wanted the old Ross back. The weathered leader of Temptation's Colonial Rangers had taken Debbi under his wing as soon as she appeared in town as a refugee from her previous disastrous posting on the Cabal ore processing space station. Ross had always judged her more harshly, often receiving her reports with grunts of indefinite opinion, but never praise. Slowly though, he brought out her natural skills and restructured her belief in herself almost without her noticing. Debbi had fewer years in the service than any other Ranger in Temptation, except perhaps Ringo. Yet, they had all accepted her leadership without question when Ross was lost. However, she had no interest in continuing her de facto command any longer than necessary.

  Debbi found herself staring at Ross's haunted face. She couldn't imagine the horror he was experiencing now, trapped in his own mind. She hoped that when she did break him free, he wouldn't remember any of it. Just seeing the constant pain on his face caused a dreadful, icy feeling to seep through her. She was sure that deep down he was fighting. He wouldn't know how to do anything else. But she didn't know what Quantrill had done to him. She would have thought if there was one man who couldn't be broken, it was Dave Ross.

  It was a chilling lesson to her, and a reminder that she must be the only one to hold sensitive information so none of her friends would be the target of syker torture. If Quantrill came after her, she'd handle it, but she refused to put any of her colleagues in harm's way. It had only been months since Debbi had been psychically raped by a Skinny. She could go through it again if it meant protecting someone else from that terror.

  "Sit down," Ross said.

  Debbi saw that the wooden chair in front of his desk was caked with muck from the undead. The arms particularly were darkened from a month of dead flesh resting on them.

  She remained standing.

  Ross flopped carelessly into his chair behind the desk. He stared listlessly ahead and didn't speak.

  Finally, Debbi said, "The Legion arrested Ringo."

  Ross didn't move at first. Then he lifted his head with a puzzled look.

  "Ringo," she repeated. "Will Stuckey? Ringo."

  Ross nodded with recognition. Then his head slumped down again.

  Debbi felt a catch in her throat as she watched him. It was painful, like watching someone you loved in the final stages of a terminal illness. There was nothing she could do to help him. She couldn't even leave him in peace because the town had to be protected in his absence. And that was her job now.

  She continued, "It's a ridiculous trumped up charge. We had the situation under control and the Legionnaires muscled their way in. They don't have the authority to arrest Rangers. They're here through a temporary invitation from the Town Council. Right? Aren't the Rang
ers still the supreme law enforcement authority here?"

  Ross shrugged. "Technically."

  "Then technically, I want Ringo released to the Rangers."

  "He's in our lock-up, isn't he?"

  "Yeah, but you know what's going to happen. The Legion will hold a tribunal and condemn him and take him out to the Bone Camp. I don't want that. We've got to put our foot down. It's got to stop here!" Debbi leaned over the desk. "Don't you see? If the Legion has the power to police the police, it's all over."

  Ross still didn't look up. "It's already over, Dallas. The days of the Colonial Rangers havin' to go it alone to protect people on this planet are over. The Legion is here to help us. You need to cooperate with them. They want the same thing we do."

  Debbi wanted to say his words were a merely a well-rehearsed script, but there was a level of passion in his voice that said otherwise. It was his seeming conviction that kept the rest of the Rangers doubting Debbi's belief that Ross was just the Legion's tool.

  She stood straight. "I don't accept that. You tell Quantrill that!"

  "Why don't you tell me yourself."

  Debbi spun around as General Quantrill entered the office followed by his omnipresent undead adjutant, as well as Captain Marat and Lester Atkinson, the meek president of the Temptation Bank and head of the Town Council.

  General Garrett Quantrill was a tall, imposing corpse of a man. He was less decayed than most of his troopers. He spent his brief death before his resurrection in a relatively decent casket rather than under the sand and loam of the Red River Valley where most of his troops fell in battle and were left behind to be covered by the Worldstorm. His skin had a sickening blackish, green hue and there was a noticeable tear in the skin of his cheek where his molars showed through. However, his jaw worked admirably well for speaking and his eyes were clear. His adjutant was less well preserved with one eye gone and most of his nose dropped away. His lips were drawn back to reveal cracked and yellow teeth.

  Debbi didn't back down in front of the phalanx of rotting dead.