Banshee Screams

by Clay Griffith

  The zombie came to, shook its head, and angrily looked down to target a brain blast at its attacker. Debbi seemed unconcerned.

  The Tuareg swept in. The zombie had a foot slammed into its chest, and was thrown back against a wagon as an arc of steel parted its head from its shoulders. It actually saw its surroundings somersaulting as its head flew through the air. Sharif whirled, his foot kicking up dust, and swiped again. The head landed in two pieces on the ground.

  Debbi looked up at Sharif as she tried to press the writhing man down to the ground. "Thanks. I didn't want to fire my weapon."

  Sharif nodded. He nonchalantly cleaned his sword and sheathed it.

  A woman appeared out of the darkness and knelt beside the wounded man. Several other people emerged from the shadows to get a better look at those who had dared to kill one of the Legion. Some of them automatically began to pack up their stalls and load vehicles.

  One greasy caravaneer spit angrily on the ground at Sharif's feet. "Dammit! You should've let the thing have him. If he was stupid enough to get caught, he deserved it. Now we're all going to get it."

  Debbi said to the angry caravaneer, "Get that body out of sight. Bury it."

  He sneered. "You bury it! I gotta pack up and get out before the rest of them come after us."

  Debbi grabbed the man roughly. "I said bury it! The rest of them won't be coming after you."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I'm on my way to kill them all." She shoved the man aside.

  Debbi and Sharif rejoined their group. With the confused crowd watching, they left the Depot and entered Temptation proper. They hurried along the deserted streets until they saw the lights of Mo's. Sharif threw the door open and entered. The smaller man waited outside, scanning the area around the saloon until the group was inside. He followed and closed the door behind him.

  The saloon was empty except for Mo who was asleep at one of the tables. The sound of the door brought him to his feet.

  "Heh? Who's that?" Mo peered across the dimly lit room. "Who is that? Sharif? That you?"

  "Yes." Sharif glanced around the saloon. "You are empty?"

  Mo rolled his eyes and then forced a smile. "Great. The only person who would brave the zombies to come in is a guy who doesn't even drink. Yeah, I'm empty. But I'm thinkin' it's gonna pick up. What can I get you and your friends? Hey, what are you doing?"

  Debbi locked the front door while the thin man in the turban began to blow out the lamps. The area around the Depot gate was last in line for restoration of electrical power, so Mo's was still lit with oil lamps. The thin man then took a place at the front window to watch the street.

  "Hey!" Mo shouted. "What's going on? I'm still open!"

  "Sorry, Mo." Debbi pulled the black cloth away from her face. "We need your place for a while."

  "Dallas?"

  Ringo threw back the hood of the parka with a gasp and immediately shrugged off the coat. "I'm burning up!"

  Hickok eyed the young man with annoyance and picked up the jacket from the floor. "Sorry, kid. I don't have a lot of clothes your size."

  Mo stared at Debbi. "Hey, I heard you were missing. I think them zombies are waiting for you to come back."

  "I figured," Debbi said. "So what's going on in town?"

  Mo shook his head ruefully. "It ain't good. Your buddies had to give up them doo-hickeys because that zombie guy grabbed up your boss."

  Debbi pulled her Dragoon and showed Mo the black gun attachment. "You mean this doo-hickey?"

  "Yeah. All the Rangers and the militia handed 'em over to the Legion a couple of days ago. And ever since, them zombies been struttin' around like they own the joint. I mean, even more than they did before. They pretty much told the Rangers to stay off the streets at night. It's gettin' bad out there."

  "What about Ross?" Debbi asked with trepidation.

  "I ain't seen him. But your pal Stew was in here and he didn't say nothin' about nothin' happenin' or nothin'. So I assume he's still around."

  "Mo, I need your help," Debbi said. "It could be dangerous. What do you say?"

  "When you say dangerous, gimme some perspective."

  "We're taking on Marat and his Legionnaires. We could all die." Debbi raised one eyebrow. "But if we win, people will start drinking again."

  Mo pulled off his apron. "Yeah, okay. I'm in."

  When Stew heard the knock, he cracked the door open and was surprised to see Mo in the hall.

  "Mo? Is business so bad you're making deliveries now?"

  "Hah hah." Mo shoved the door open and moved into the room.

  "What are you doing here?" Stew shut the door and lowered his Dragoon.

  The gray-haired saloon keeper glanced around. It was a single room in a boarding house with a thin bed and a dresser and a window. A gas lamp glowed in the corner. In the other corner was a stack of books.

  "Are you alone?" Mo asked.

  "Yeah." Stew gave a deadpan stare. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

  "Oh, you wish! Listen, I got news from Dallas."

  "What?" Stew took a hurried step forward. "Where is she?"

  Mo held up cautioning hands. "She's at the saloon. She sent me to get you."

  The Ranger grabbed his gun belt off the bed. "Let's go."

  "Hold yer horsies. This is Hallow."

  "What?" Stew buckled on the belt, looking around the room.

  Suddenly a figure unblended from the wallpaper. It was a dark-skinned man with a desert headdress, the same syker Stew had seen with Debbi after her mission to New Hope.

  Stew drew his weapon.

  "Whoa! Whoa!" Mo stepped between them. "He came with Dallas. He's a good guy. He got me across town without any zombies seein' me. Especially that one across the street. Don't it creep you out havin' that thing out there all night?"

  Stew eyed the syker and slowly holstered his weapon. "What are you talking about, Mo? What zombie across the street?"

  Hallow stared at the floor. "There is an undead syker watching your room."

  Stew pulled his gaze away from Hallow and went to the window. He inched the thin curtain aside and studied the dim street below his 2nd floor room.

  '"I don't see anything," he said. "It must be gone."

  "Look at me," Hallow said.

  Stew turned and felt a slight prodding in his brain that he'd come to recognize from the many probes of the Legionnaires.

  "Now look." Hallow nodded toward the window.

  Stew parted the curtain and now he saw a Legionnaire leaning against the wall across the street. It was in the shadows, but it was clearly visible. It was staring up at Stew's window.

  The Ranger drew back quickly. "Now it knows I can see it."

  "No," Hallow replied. "I'm heightening your resistance. He senses nothing. That thing has only a shadow of the power he had when he was alive."

  Mo took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together. "Well, this is fun, but we better get going. Dallas is waitin'. I'll tell ya, this life of adventure ain't for me. I'm sweatin' like a big hog over here."

  Stew blew out the lamp and opened the door. He checked the hallway. Then he signaled for Mo and Hallow to follow.

  The three of them made a few stops before heading back to Mo's.

  The saloon seemed crowded now. Debbi presided over a group of six Rangers, Stew, Ringo, Miller, Chennault, Fitz, and Ngoma. Sharif and Hickok sat at another table. Hallow stood by the window watching for Legionnaires.

  The Rangers had all gathered around Ringo, grinning and back slapping. The attention was good for the young man; it instilled a sense of normality into him that he hadn't had since the night he was arrested. When they all heard the awful truth of the Bone Camp, they were shocked at first and then furious. Watching their faces draw up in anger, Debbi sensed steel forming in their spines. When they finally turned to her, they were primed to strike, eager to destroy the Legionnaires.

  It was Miller, of course, who expressed reservations at the point of action. "How ar
e we going to handle those things without our black guns? They'll just knock us down with that psychic hoodoo. And then they'll eat us."

  A few of the Rangers told Miller to shut up. But Debbi went to the door of the storeroom next to the bar.

  "Something I can get for ya back there?" Mo asked nervously. He was antsy having a Ranger snooping in his private storeroom.

  "No thanks." Debbi went in and came out dragging a heavy, three-foot long case of liquor. Stew helped drag the crate into the middle of the saloon.

  She held up her hand to Mo. "Toss me the pry bar."

  Mo looked confused but complied. Debbi pried up the squeaking, nailed lid. Setting the bar aside, she reached between bottles of alcohol and pulled out a black gun attachment.

  The Rangers surged forward. She handed out the weapons and they eagerly snapped them onto their Dragoons.

  Mo exclaimed, "Hey! When did those get in here?"

  Debbi said, "I put them there. I figured no zombie would come in a saloon."

  "How'd you get in here?"

  She smiled. "We've got keys."

  Mo's eyebrows lowered. "You do?"

  Miller looked up suddenly with excitement. "We do?"

  Mo snarled at Miller. "Forget it! From now on, I'm marking all the liquor bottles with a grease pencil."

  Fitz twirled his weapon and slid it in his holster. "All right. Now I'm ready to shoot some dead things!"

  "Easy, Fitz," Debbi said. "It's not that easy. Our first target is rescuing Ross."

  Ringo said, "Let's go get him."

  "Hold up. This has got to be quiet. I'm going with Hallow. I took enough of a risk bringing you all here. I don't want any additional motion in town alerting Marat's patrols."

  Sharif and Hickok stood up. "What about us?"

  "Too dangerous," Debbi said. "The fewer people Hallow has to protect the better chance we have of getting to Ross undetected."

  "What are we supposed to do? Play cards?" Fitz asked. "Why did you bring us here?"

  "I need you to insure the town's safety," Debbi answered. "When we have Ross, you'll get the word. Then fan out and start killing Legionnaires as fast as you can. Don't stop until they're all dead."

  "Technically, they're already dead," Miller said.

  "Then make them deader," Debbi responded. She motioned to Hallow and they gathered at the door. "Everyone stay out of sight until you hear from me."

  "Debbi," Stew called.

  She looked at him, but he was silent for a moment, his face full of trepidation and uncertainty. She waited.

  "Good luck," he finally offered, giving her a lame thumbs up. "We'll be waiting."

  Out of all of them, Stew best understood what was at stake for Temptation and for Debbi. It was clear in his pale blue eyes. Ross would live or die this night.

  Debbi steeled herself for the consequences of her actions, and prayed to God, she was doing the right thing. She returned Stew's gesture and went out into the dark with the syker.

  Chapter 13

  Debbi and Hallow left Mo's and slipped into the dark alleys. It was just over half a mile to the Rangers headquarters as the crow flies, and it would be considerably longer trying to avoid being seen by the undead patrols. As the strange pair slipped through the wrecked back alleys and tumbledown hovels, Debbi was shocked to see that even here, far from the main streets and the open grounds of the Depot, there were no homeless, no beggars struggling to survive on the fringes of society. It made her shudder to think they had all been culled by the Legion, taken to the Bone Camp and eaten.

  Hallow held out his hand to block her. They waited behind a pile of rubbish while two Legionnaires walked past. The two zombies paused. Debbi's hand tightened on the butt of her weapon. Hallow stared at the two undead. They stood motionless, the wind whistling through the exposed ribcage of one. A minute passed. Debbi tried to quiet her anxious breathing. The two troopers moved off down the street into the lamplit darkness.

  As Debbi watched them, she realized how bold and assured the Legion had grown. Judging from the horrific scene she'd witnessed in the Depot, troopers were attacking and consuming people in public and people were too frightened to do anything about it, even if they could. If Debbi didn't stop it, it wouldn't be long before the undead were pulling children out of homes and devouring them before the eyes of their parents.

  Debbi and Hallow came to the end of an alley and looked out over a large vehicle yard behind the Ranger headquarters. It was dotted with several inoperable Stallions and two Prowlers.

  "The window to Ross's office is on the far wall," Debbi said quietly. "How are we going to handle this?"

  Hallow whispered, "We need him alone. From what you've told me about his behavior, I suspect this isn't a simple surface suggestive control. It has to be powerful to leave him functionally rational, yet completely dominated. The complexity of what has happened to Ross seems to be on a level I've never seen before. I can't guarantee that I can break him out."

  Debbi stared into the syker's eyes watching for hints of underlying confidence that belied his cautious words.

  Hallow continued, "It's going to be dangerous. For him and for me. And for you. I suspect Captain Marat will know as soon as I start to work."

  "Will he be able to hurt Ross? Psychically?"

  Hallow shook his head. "I doubt it. Not as long as I'm in there. I'm referring to physical danger to you. Marat will certainly come, or send troopers to stop us."

  Debbi said, "You just do whatever it takes to free Ross. I'll hold off the Legionnaires."

  Hallow was not surprised to find that Debbi's only concern was for Ross and not herself. The syker knew he could count on her ability; after all, she had held a Skinny at bay.

  They raced in a crouch between the idle vehicles. Debbi had her Dragoon out and a supply belt looped over her left shoulder. Hallow kept his eyes moving, searching for syker targets to intercept and interrupt. There were none. The lack of guards demonstrated with ugly assurance that the Legion felt very comfortable in their control of Temptation.

  Debbi and Hallow reached the wall of the headquarters building. They inched under the window to Ross's office. Debbi rose slowly and peered over the bottom edge of the window.

  She could see very little. It was dark inside. The office door was closed. In a shaft of moonlight, she could make out the figure of Ross slumped over his desk.

  She dropped down. "He's in there. I think he's alone."

  Hallow stood and stared in. After a moment, he signaled it was time to move.

  Debbi pushed up on the window. It was locked.

  Hallow said, "Break it. I can muffle the sound."

  With a wince, she used her weapon to break a pane of glass with a crash. She looked at him with alarm.

  He shook his head. "No one can hear it except us."

  She reached in, unlocked the window, and shoved it up. She boosted Hallow inside. She climbed in afterwards and slowly lowered the window behind her.

  Ross hadn't moved. Debbi felt her heart pounding. Was he already dead? She moved closer and, with relief, heard shallow breathing.

  She took advantage of the imposed silence to open his desk drawer and remove his keys. She crossed the room and locked the door. Then she pulled the ratty shade down over the broken window.

  The room was in near blackness. She took a penlight from the supply belt. In the narrow, intense beam of light, Hallow tried to lift Ross from where he rested on crossed arms on the desk. Ross didn't resist or wake. But Hallow couldn't budge him; Ross was dead weight and a much bigger man than the syker.

  Debbi put the light between her teeth and took Ross by the ankles. She and Hallow carried him to the corner farthest away from the door or window.

  "What's wrong with him?" Debbi asked. "This isn't how he was before. He at least seemed normal."

  Hallow said, "I don't know. Perhaps they've just shut him down."

  "Maybe he shut himself down."

  Hallow didn't respond. He pried open on
e of Ross's eyelids and stared into the unresponsive eye. Hallow froze for a second. Then he quivered and let out a disturbed breath.

  "What?" Debbi asked quickly. "What happened?"

  "I don't like this." He looked sidelong at Debbi. "But I have an idea. It will be very dangerous."

  "What is it?"

  "I want to take you in with me."

  "What happens when Marat comes?"

  "Hopefully I can retain enough awareness to sense any Legionnaire approaching. But this man is so deep, he may not respond to me. I think you may be able to bring him out. He needs someone familiar."

  "All right. Let's do it."

  "You need to realize that you could die. You could be killed physically by a Legionnaire that I don't see coming or you could die psychically from . . ."

  "I said let's do it."

  Hallow held her gaze for a second then turned back to Ross.

  Debbi found herself standing in a field of knee high prairie grass. She looked around, confused. The landscape was flat and covered as far as the eye can see with a bluish grass with petite white flowers that rolled like an ocean in the wind. The air was light and sweet. The sky was blue, and white clouds plowed across it.

  She saw Hallow approaching through the prairie grass.

  "What happened?" Debbi asked him.

  "We're inside."

  She looked around again. It was beautiful and serene. She felt the clean sun beating on her face. It didn't appear to be Banshee.

  "Where are we?" Debbi inquired.

  "This is Earth." Hallow stared off into the distance. "Somewhere in the American southwest, I think. Where is Ross from?"

  "I don't know," Debbi admitted with surprise. "Texas, I think. What do we do now?"

  "Not me. You." Hallow pointed.

  Debbi followed his motion. In the distance, a small white house sat in a clearing in the vast high grass prairie. Clothes hung on a line, blowing in the wind. Behind the house, a split rail fence surrounded several acres of pasture where three horses quietly grazed. They were fine-looking animals, two grays and a paint.

  Debbi walked toward the house. She felt the tall grass brushing softly against her legs. The paint lifted its head, ears up, and watched her with curiosity. When she reached the edge of the clearing, the horse whinnied. With a flip of their manes, the animals pounded to the far side of the pasture, scattering clods of mud behind them.