Cardinal Crimson

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Cardinal Crimson Page 15

by Will McDermott


  ‘I’m ready,’ he said.

  ‘He has returned,’ called Jobe Francks as he strode through Hive City. ‘The Bowdie has returned. Come rejoice in the great renewal of spirit.’

  At least one person’s spirit had been renewed already. Francks felt alive again. His purpose had returned, and his mission, after so many years lost in the wastes, his mission was nearing completion.

  As he walked, Jobe felt like he had become one with the Universe. His senses extended out from his body in all directions. He could feel the air moving through every strand of his wild tangle of hair as he moved. The light from the roof of the dome warmed his skin. He felt connected to all the people around him, as they scurried to and fro on their way to jobs and homes.

  He could feel their eyes upon him, hear their whispers and know their hearts. Hemma was late for work and worried about losing her job, but was amused by the odd man talking to the wind. Zubriski felt guilty because he got a promotion by stealing his friend’s idea and was intrigued by the thought of renewing his spirit. Darnell was simply trying to get through another day of drudgery and wanted to avoid eye contact. Ritto wondered about the strange man who seemed to leave no footprints.

  Francks looked down at his feet. Everything seemed normal until he realised he could see his shadow moving beneath his feet as he walked. His feet were no longer touching the ground. ‘Come see the miracle body,’ he called to those around him. ‘Come find the meaning that your lives have been lacking for too long. Follow me to the promise of a better future.’

  Their stares gave him power. Their fears and strife and pain drained away as he passed. He felt that energy surge through his body. He glowed from within, basking in their lightened souls. Most went about their days afterward feeling a little lighter, a little better about their lot in life; perhaps simply amused by the strange spectacle. He could feel the word spreading out around him, infusing the consciousness of the Hive.

  Some even fell in step behind him, hoping and wishing to find that better world he promised. Jobe Francks hoped and wished he had the strength to give it to them.

  ‘How long had you been watching?’ asked Kal. He found it helped to talk while walking as it kept his mind off the searing pain in his legs and shoulders. They hadn’t stopped moving since they left the cavern and every stride sent a new wave of pain through his body. The two had walked almost all the way up to Dust Falls, a deep settlement perched on the edge of a huge chasm. Once back in even that piece of forlorn civilization, they should be safe from Crimson’s men.

  Bobo didn’t answer right away and Kal glanced down at him. The little spy gave him a sheepish smile. ‘All night, huh?’ said Kal.

  ‘I tried to get your attention every time Crimson left,’ said Bobo. ‘But that guy never stopped whipping you until that last time.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Kal.

  ‘Are you in a lot of pain?’ asked Bobo.

  Kal’s glare was his answer.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Bobo. ‘Of course you are. Once we get to safety, I can put something on your skin to help it heal – and to dull the pain.’

  ‘That’ll be good,’ said Kal through clenched teeth. They walked in silence for a while as Kal mastered his pain once again. ‘What have you found out?’ he asked at last. ‘Did Crimson let anything slip about Jobe Francks?’

  Bobo screwed up his face. ‘He’s very tight-lipped, that one,’ he said. ‘At least when he wasn’t preaching at you or his followers.’

  ‘Scav,’ said Kal. ‘Nothing at all?’

  ‘A few snippets, that’s all,’ said Bobo. ‘I’d say he’s got at least two covert ops going on. One seems to have something to do with a body in a dome. I’m not sure if he’s trying to retrieve a body or hide a body.’

  They entered the Dust Falls dome as Bobo gave his report and Kal breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to sit, drink a bottle of Wild Snake and figure out his next move. All those things could be achieved at the Dust Hole, a beaten and battered saloon at the edge of the chasm.

  Bobo continued his report. ‘I’m fairly certain Crimson’s other operation involves getting rid of Francks. He may be the one behind the two assassins sent after the prophet.’

  Kal stared at him. ‘Two assassins?’

  Bobo nodded. ‘Yeah. After the first one was found dead in that alley, I heard reports of a second assassin being dispatched.’

  ‘Dispatched where?’ Kal looked around and found the entrance to Dust Hole. He moved off in a different direction.

  ‘That’s the thing,’ said Bobo as he jogged to keep up. ‘He was sent to Glory Hole, but then the last report I got had him heading into Hive City. Something about his target getting bitten or going to get bit? Didn’t make a lot of sense.’

  Kal stopped just outside the saloon. ‘Bitten?’ he asked. ‘Could it have been a name? I heard Crimson say something about someone named Bitten.’

  ‘Could be,’ said Bobo as they entered Dust Hole. ‘My informants say the assassin was last seen in Old Town near the dome wall if that’s any help.’

  Kal sat at a table and cringed as he pressed his sore flesh against the chair. ‘Looks like I’m going to Hive City next.’

  Bobo grabbed a couple Snakes and sat across from Kal. ‘You want I should come along to keep you out of trouble?’

  Kal grabbed the bottle and drained it before answering, letting the snake that gave the drink its name slide down his throat. ‘No,’ he said, spinning the bottle idly on the table. ‘Go back and keep on eye on Crimson. Let me know if you find out anything else.’

  Bobo sipped at his own drink and fished in his trousers. He dropped what looked like a small rounded piece of rubber on the table. ‘Then you’d better take this,’ he said.

  Kal picked it up and rolled it around between his fingers. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Latest thing from the Spire,’ said Bobo, smiling. It’s a communication device. Fits in your ear. With it we can talk no matter how far apart we get. It’s similar to the vox units Nemo uses, but less invasive.’

  ‘Where’d you get this?’ asked Kal. ‘Looks military.’

  ‘Better you don’t know,’ replied Bobo.

  Kal put the communicator in his ear. It fitted snugly, but felt a little strange. ‘Great. Now, get back to Crimson. I need to know what he’s up to.’

  Bobo pulled out a small tube. ‘What about the balm?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you want me to apply it to your back and legs?’

  Kal took the tube and scanned the Dust Hole, checking out the local scenery: barmaids in low cut blouses and short skirts. ‘I think I can find someone to do that for me,’ he said.

  As he walked back toward the crowd surrounding the miracle body, Scabbs had no idea what he was going to do. Kal made the plans. Scabbs just messed them up. That was his normal contribution anyway.

  But Kal wasn’t here, so it was up to Scabbs. If he wanted to get out of this alive, he had to come up with something. It shouldn’t be too hard. He already had a mob. He just needed to turn up the heat.

  He came up behind Grondle and Ander, who were both yelling at the workers huddled around the body. Scabbs was taken by how comical the two men looked from behind. Grondle’s large head was bright red, making him look like a bearded beet. Sweat flew off the loose hair poking out from Ander’s bandana, spraying his short boss with a sweat shower.

  ‘Back to work, ye worthless scavvies,’ said Grondle. ‘It’s just a dead body.’ He turned to Ander, with a pleading look on his face.

  Ander snapped his whip a few times, lashing the nearest prostrate slaves. ‘Move it,’ he screamed. ‘I’ll whip you to death if you don’t move.’

  They still had the whips, but the men had lost their power. The praying slaves completely ignored the men and the whip. They seemed almost trancelike on the ground.

  Ander raised his hand again. Scabbs stepped in and grabbed his forearm on its way up. The tall ganger’s head snapped around and their eyes locked together. Ander’s eyes went wide in
surprise. Scabbs tried to look determined, but down deep inside he was as surprised as Ander.

  Before the Orlock crew chief could react, Scabbs reached in with his other hand and snatched the whip out of Ander’s hand. ‘You will not whip these people again,’ he said and strode past into the sea of kneeling slaves.

  ‘What the–’ started Ander.

  Scabbs stopped, turned and raised his hands into the air. The barbed end of the whip trailed on the ground at his feet. ‘Hear me, slaves,’ he called out. ‘This is a great day. We are witness to a miracle. Come and bow before the miracle body unearthed here today. Come bask in the glow of its salvation.’

  As he faltered for words, Scabbs stole a glance at Ander and Grondle. The round foreman simply stared, his mouth slack and his eyes unfocused. Ander seethed and fumbled with the catch on his holster. Scabbs hurried on, getting an idea on the spur of the moment, a la Kal Jerico.

  ‘Rise up,’ he yelled. ‘Rise up and stand against the hand of tyranny and the fist of oppression. Rise up now. The miracle body will deliver us from evil. Rise up!’

  The prostrate slaves looked up at Scabbs. Several scrambled to their feet. Scabbs walked among them, keeping bodies between him and Ander as he continued to preach. ‘They wish to keep us from the miracle body,’ he said, pointing at Ander and Grondle.

  Several of the other Orlock guards had joined them. Ander talked and pointed at Scabbs, but he pressed on as the slaves continued to stand up around him. He noticed that the group had grown larger. Slaves from the other chain gangs had pushed their way down the hill to see the body.

  ‘This is our time now,’ said Scabbs. ‘We have freed the miracle body from its earthly prison and brought it into the light for all to see.’

  The Orlocks advanced with whips, chains and pistols in their hands. ‘Get that scabby little man,’ called Ander.

  ‘But we must act now, my friends,’ called Scabbs. He backed up as the whips snapped into the crowd. Several gangers rushed toward him. ‘Seize your freedom and secure the path for the miracle, so we might share it with all the hive.’

  The slaves stood their ground, but Scabbs could tell they still harboured too much fear of the whips, so he decided to use his. His arm flipped back and flew forward. The barbed tail of the whip snapped in the air behind him and slashed past him, slicing his cheek along the way but, at the other end of its flight, the whip connected with Ander’s face as well. When Scabbs pulled his arm back, the whip snapped again, tearing off a chunk of the Orlock’s tiny goatee.

  It was like a shot of adrenaline through the crowd. The slaves erupted into action. Those nearest Scabbs clawed at the gangers trying to grab him, pulling them away and driving them to the ground. Others rushed forward, toward Ander and Grondle. The foreman turned to run, but he couldn’t get his girth moving fast enough and the first few slaves caught him from behind.

  Ander backed up, firing into the crowd as he tried to retreat. Slave after slave dropped to the ground, with scorch marks on their chests, shoulders and faces. Scabbs’s eyes went wide in horror as he saw the price of his brilliant plan. Those Ander shot writhed in pain on the ground if they were lucky. Their wounds looked like ground up, broiled meat.

  Ander levelled his pistol at Arliana, who rushed forward like a mad woman. Scabbs screamed, ‘No!’ and ran forward. His foot caught on a power cable attached to one of the light poles. He tripped and pitched forward into the dirt.

  He heard a loud crack and a strange creaking noise, and looked up to see the pole tipping over. The mob scattered as it plummeted to the ground. The lights popped and flared with one last gasp of illumination before going dark.

  Everything became quiet but Scabbs had no idea why. It wasn’t pitch black. There were other light poles, just none near the body. He glanced around to see slaves and Orlocks alike staring back at the body.

  Scabbs pushed himself back to his feet and turned around. The miracle body shimmered in the shadowy twilight, casting a soft bluish-white glow on the faces of all those gathered around.

  Yolanda was tired. It felt like she’d been running back and forth through the Underhive all night and most of the morning, which was, of course, exactly what she’d done. At least during this trip she hadn’t been attacked by Goliaths or kidnapped by Orlocks. That was a refreshing change from recent events.

  ‘Damn you, Jerico,’ she muttered for at least the tenth time this trip. ‘Right now, I’d be counting my share of the last three bounties you squandered, if it hadn’t been for you and your stupid dog.’

  She ran past the spot where Gonth’s gang had ambushed her the day before, being careful to check the nooks and crannies amongst all the extra supports for any hiding Goliaths. ‘At least the return trip will be quicker and easier on the legs,’ she said, once she was satisfied there was no ambush this time.

  The plan was simple. She’d borrow the Malcadon rig from the Wildcats and use its web spinners to immobilise the Guilder guards. Then she could snatch Scabbs and get out with no fuss, or messy Guilder deaths. Yolanda didn’t want to cross them. She’d had a bounty on her head before and didn’t relish having to run from the likes of Jerico again.

  Her brilliant plans all came crashing to a halt as she made the last turn before the Wildcats hideout. She jumped back around the corner and pulled out her laspistols. The street looked like a war zone. Peering around the edge of the building, Yolanda counted at least ten dead ’Cats strewn about and a couple Goliaths.

  Yolanda slipped around the corner and edged down the street, hugging the wall. There were ’Cat bodies lying in the gutter and hanging out of windows. The stench of blood filled the air, but the red pools beneath the bodies were still. The last drops had drained from them some time before she arrived.

  The two Goliaths had fallen in a heap just outside the door to the Wildcats hideout. She could see a shotgun and a heavy stubber sticking out from beneath the bodies as she approached. Both dead Goliaths had bandoliers of frag grenades wrapped around their bodies as well.

  With all the carnage and unclaimed weaponry lying out in the open, Yolanda despaired of finding any ’Cats alive inside. She inched toward the door, weapons trained on the opening. One of the Goliath bodies moved and she fired two blasts into its side.

  A voice cried out from inside. ‘Keep on coming. We can keep piling up your bodies.’

  ‘Themis?’ Yolanda called back. ‘You’re alive in there?’

  ‘Yolanda,’ came the reply. ‘Thank the Emperor. Did you see any Goliaths on your way in?’

  Yolanda peered over the half-wall at the edge of the hideout. Themis and a few other ’Cats hunkered down behind overturned tables, their weapons trained on the door. Two other ’Cats knelt by the dead Goliaths. When they saw Yolanda, they went back to work, trying to remove the behemoths from the doorway.

  ‘It’s clear out here,’ said Yolanda. ‘You can come out and clear your dead.’ She holstered her weapons and moved to the door to help the girls heave the Goliaths out of the way.

  Yolanda and Themis talked as they cleaned up after the battle. ‘What happened?’ asked Yolanda. She stripped the bandoliers off one of the Goliath bodies. They’d have to drag the huge gangers out of the dome eventually, as the rival gang might return to claim the corpses, but any gear left behind belonged to the victors – a victory being any battle you didn’t run away from.

  ‘Gonth and his gang arrived just before morning,’ said Themis. She sliced through the bandolier to get it off, sawing into the Goliath’s thick skin as she cut. ‘We tried to take them in the street, but nothing stopped them until we retreated into the diner and concentrated our fire.’

  Yolanda glanced around at the carnage. The remaining girls were hauling bodies to the Wildcat graveyard. She searched the faces of each dead Wildcat as they were carried past. ‘Where’s Lysanne?’ she asked. ‘She didn’t…’

  Themis shook her head causing her cascade of golden hair to shimmer around her head. ‘She’s shook up, but okay,’ she said.
‘She’s resting. I sent her out in the rig to slow them down. It’s the only thing that saved us. Otherwise they would have overrun the diner.’

  Yolanda realised the implication immediately. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘They must have had a grenade launcher,’ said Themis. She wiped her dagger on the Goliath’s back. ‘We heard a huge explosion. The whole dome shook. The rig crashed into my apartment above the diner’s kitchen.’

  ‘And she survived?’

  Themis nodded. ‘That rig is tough. Saved her life. Of course, it won’t be much use unless we can scavenge some parts somehow.’

  Yolanda felt a knot forming in her stomach. ‘This is all my fault, isn’t it?’ she asked. She wanted to blame it on Jerico again. It was his gambling that started the ball rolling, but she had brought the Grak gang down on the Wildcats.

  ‘We’re not pointing any fingers,’ said Themis. She began stripping the gear from the second Goliath. ‘They may have been looking for you. Or maybe they just wanted some payback for that fight in the tunnel. Whatever started this, we plan to end it. If it will ease your guilty conscience, you can help us take down Gonth and his gang.’

  Yolanda nodded, but then stopped. ‘I… I can’t,’ she said. ‘At least not yet. You see, that’s why I returned. I’ve got a problem of my own. Scabbs is in trouble and I needed to borrow the rig. But I guess I’ll just have to do it myself now.’

  Themis grabbed Yolanda by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. ‘You’re a Wildcat, Yolanda,’ she said. ‘We stick together. And I know Lysanne would force me to help you anyway, once she heard Scabbs was in trouble. I don’t understand it, but that girl is sweet on him.’

  ‘He does grow on you,’ said Yolanda, and a smile almost flitted over her lips as the follow-up joke went through her mind. ‘But no, I can’t ask you to help. It’s Guilders and you don’t want any part of that.’

  Themis stood and pulled Yolanda to her feet. ‘Come on in and tell me all about it,’ she said. ‘We’ll help you and then you can help us take on Gonth.’

 

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