Zero Sum

by B. Justin Shier

  “There was a most curious bulge!”

  I had no retort. The image of Rei perusing the contents of my pants had overwhelmed my mental bandwidth.

  “But why did you wait?” Dante asked. “That monster was gonna rape Dieter and stuff.”

  “Because the three of you lost my cooler,” she shot back.

  “That’s a reason?” I asked.

  Rei cocked her head in confusion.

  “Of course it is a reason. Delivery does not order itself.”

  And then Rei did something I would never forget. She opened the door and jumped straight out. I gaped as her body went horizontal. Her serene blue eyes sparkled in the headlights’ glare. She looked entirely indifferent to the peril. And the entire motion was effortless. I thought she might even take to flight—until her left shoulder connected with a windshield. Glass went flying everywhere. The tricked out Wrangler skidded off to the left. It looked ready to jump the median, only to overcorrect back to the right. Rei had managed to get her hand on the wheel. She was the one doing the turning. Spitting out a cloud of rubber, the Jeep caught the second in the rear wheel. Rei’s Jeep managed to stay upright. It took a leap off the shoulder into the wide-open desert.

  “Jesus Christ!” Dante shouted.

  As if in slow motion, the second Jeep began to fishtail. We watched in awe as the truck tripped over its own wheels and disintegrated into a million pieces. The poor bastards inside never stood a chance. Their tricked-out coffin was traveling at over a 100mph. Two men were tossed out like rag dolls. I never saw what became of them.

  “That one has a certain flair,” Francesca noted with a nod.

  “Why aren’t we turning around?” I could see flashes of gunfire going off inside the cabin of the surviving jeep. “Why aren’t we helping her?”

  Francesca reached into her pocket and pulled out a slender cancer stick. “Because the moon is new, there were a maximum of four, and I do believe she was pocketing a box-cutter.” Francesca lowered her window and blew out a puff. “Gentlemen, be some good little grubs and hand me what is in the crate marked ‘foodstuffs’.”

  “How did you know?” Jasper asked.

  “Because you asked my father for ideas. I love the man to pieces, but his lips tend to come undone.”

  Jasper cleared his throat. “So…”

  “Grubs, a bit faster if you would please. We are just about in range.”

  Moving our bags out of the way, Dante and I opened the crate. It contained a strange looking tube about two feet long. The whole thing weighed about twenty pounds, and there was a diamond ring taped to the viewfinder. Francesca took the dangerous-looking thing, flipped a few switches, and nodded. A capacitor charged up inside. A steady beep began to sound. She slung the strange machine onto her shoulder and stuck her entire torso out the window. A mile ahead, ten headlights shone. The Weres were waiting for their dinner.

  “Gotta love pack animals,” Jasper said. “They even bunched up for us.”

  The beep began to pace upwards until it formed a monotone.

  “Um, is that a—” I started.

  The whole truck shook with a thunderous bang. My head rattled. The whole SUV shook from the jolt. I tracked the blazing red streamer upwards, straight overhead of its target. Then, like the crack of a whip, the missile arched straight down. I instantly understood the logic. It was a missile designed to attack a tank’s soft topside armor. The speed of projectile reached insanity, and it connected with the top of blondie’s head.

  I said a bullet couldn’t crack a hydrogen fuel tank. I never said anything about an anti-tank missile. The boom was too loud to hear, and the wave of rippling asphalt tossed our ride straight up into the air. All the SUV’s windows shattered. Shrapnel shot in every direction. As our front wheels found pavement, unidentifiable chunks of flesh rained down on the hood.

  Jasper let off the gas and let out a low whistle.

  Whimpering, Jules shook the glass out of her curls.

  “That didn’t even seem fair,” I said.

  “Fair is for enemies that don’t regenerate,” Jasper said. “Did they get the spike strip out?”

  Francesca shook her head no.

  “I’ll take the one on the right. He looks the most intact.”

  With the smoke clearing, a horror scene played out in front of us. Human cinders walked among the wreckage. They shouldn’t have been alive. Jasper aimed for the one that still had both arms. Jules let out a scream as he caught the poor smoldering bastard with our grill. Jamming on the breaks, he put the steaming truck into park.

  Francesca had already peeled off the diamond ring from the missile launcher and slid it onto her finger.

  “Pretty,” she said.

  “Happy anniversary,” Jasper said with a smile.

  The toaster strudel we had struck began to convulse.

  Francesca was out of the car in an instant.

  She drew the long sword in a slow and steady motion and took the man’s head off with a single swing. Spinal cord severed, all his limbs went still.

  “You can have your pee break now.” Jasper turned off the SUV and pocketed the keys. “Mr. Dante, keep your people by the car.”

  The three of us hopped out of the car behind him and struggled to find our bearings. Melted puddles of nanotubes burnt like bonfires. The air smelled like sour barbeque. Behind us, humanoid things crawled about on their remaining limbs. None of their bodies looked salvageable, yet for some unexplained reason they continued to function.

  “What is the deal with these people?” I asked.

  “The moon is in the wane, Dieter. They won’t regenerate limbs until it be full again.”

  “They can recover missing limbs?” I asked. Healing a wound was one thing. Regenerating body parts was another.

  “Aye, Dieter. They’re one of the few creatures that can even regenerate a spine. They live short mad lives. They never leave their teen years—and they’ve always gotta be eatin’.”

  “The Department hunted them out of existence on the East and West Coast years ago,” Dante explained. “There are some big packs left in Canada and Mexico, but they never dared to trespass until this war started. The Nostophoros keep some tame ones. Rumor is Nosto blood can keep them alive much longer.”

  “Can they transform and stuff?” I asked.

  “Fourteen days outta twenty-eight.”

  “I won’t be allowing them the luxury,” Jasper said. He knelt to the ground, and a surge of mana echoed out of him. Everything walking collapsed. He’d dragged them to the ground without breaking a sweat.

  “An earth-mage?” I whispered. He’d sent his cast straight into the bedrock.

  Jules nodded. “A rare bird he be.”

  Francesca was unfazed by the change in gravity around her. That was one of the benefits of wefting. Jasper could exclude her from the cast with ease. She dragged her broadsword behind her like a plough. It sparked as it raked across the pavement. Some of the riders tried to crawl away, but they were no match for Jasper’s willpower.

  Francesca had a short conversation with each one. If they couldn’t talk, she took their head. If they could talk, she tortured them until they couldn’t. She got very little from all her efforts. A nice old lady had given them some cool toys and a target, and they hadn’t asked much beyond, “What flavor?” Francesca stomped out her cigarette when she was finished. Then she began the slower process of looting their corpses. No ID’s to speak of. No paperwork either. She gave Jasper a tired shrug.

  “This makes about as much sense as shit-flavored toothpaste.” Dusting off his hands, Jasper rose to face us. “Why the hell is John Fremont’s widow trying to kill you?”

  “John Fremont?” I opened up Carrera’s book and flipped to the fourth chapter. “As in John C. Fremont, the explorer who helped start the Mexican-American War. The father of the Republican Party. The guy who nearly beat Abraham Lincoln out for the nomination?”

  Jasper nodded “He had to bow out of the running. H
era’s servant dragged him back to Greece.”

  “Jasper, that’s just a rumor,” Francesca replied.

  “Explain that thing that was accompanying her then,” Jasper shot back.

  Francesca said nothing. She turned her head and looked away.

  “It isn’t every day that a councilor takes a swing at a pair of DEA agents.” Jasper eyed Dante. “The shit is deep on this one, lads. I’m figuring you have something to tell us.”

  Dante tried to look cool. “Sir, I don’t know anything.”

  “Let me clarify. Spill the beans and we might help you. Bite your lips and we’ll saw them open. Then we’ll stake the she-devil, bind the lot of you, and pull teeth till we get to Salt Lake.”

  Dante looked at Jules and I. Neither of us knew what to tell him. There was no way in hell we could fight it out with a pair team. He let out a sigh and spilled.

  At the end of it, Jasper shook his head and laughed. “So Albright is still clinging to that theory?”

  “But if he’s right?” I asked. “If Talmax is really breaking international law with their ACT devices…?”

  Jasper glared at me. “If he’s right, and by some miracle you can get a hold of a sample, and by some other miracle you manage to survive long enough to show an ICE team what you found, then yea, that would just be peaches. The ICE would come down on Talmax like God’s will on earth. This war would be over in minutes.”

  “So…” I started.

  “So you’re chasing a pipe dream, kid. There’s no proof these ACT devices are anything but earthbound minerals. How can you risk the lives of your friends on a gamble like that?”

  “It should be our choice, sir. I trust Albright. He wouldn’t be sending us on a wild goose chase.”

  “Is this what this war has come to? We’re sacrificing kids now?”

  “And what are you going to use us for in Salt Lake, sir? Concessions?”

  Jasper stormed off in a fury. He kicked a vacant motorcycle seat across the road.

  I turned to Francesca.

  “Talk to him,” I begged.

  The redheaded warrior looked straight into me. “Child, my path is simple. I am cataphract. I am a blade. I go where my mage points. I crush what he wills. One of the few pleasures of this life is leaving the scheming up to you Magi—convince him yourself.”

  Jules let out a sigh and approached Jasper.

  “Ya know we must, sir.”

  “I know nothing,” he shouted back at her.

  “That be a lie. Of all people, ya know the most. Ya have the touch of the cold earth on ya. Ya know of flesh unbound. This gamble be worth it on those terms.”

  Jaspers fingers slacked. “How do you…?”

  “Because none has eyes as cold as yers that hasn’t seen death undone. Ya know there be dangers far beyond this war. Ya know why and for what we must risk it.”

  The sound of an engine rose in the distance. A Jeep was rumbling down the road. A crimson flag flapped proudly on the antennae. It appeared to have once been a man’s shirt. Rei pulled up next to us and poked her head out.

  “I am full. Can we go now?”

  Jasper looked off into the distance. His hands tightened into fists.

  “Cadet Lieutenant Dante,” he said.

  “Sir?”

  “Agent Reckling and I need to find some additional fuel for our vehicle. It’s going to take the remainder of the night. Your services are not required here. Take the Jeep and continue towards your objective.”

  Dante broke out into a grin.

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

  The three of us didn’t waste any time. We grabbed our duffels and tossed them in the Jeep.

  +

  Our bags tucked away, Rei kicked the Jeep into gear.

  The cold was nearly unbearable in the front seat of the jeep. I’d buttoned my robe tight, and stuffed newspapers under my sweaters, but the harsh weather didn’t seem to care. I looked back at Dante and Jules. Bundled up under a warm burlap blanket, they were already out like a light. They’d take over in the morning. Until then I was left eating snowflakes.

  Rei let loose another burp.

  “Gross,” I replied.

  “You manage ten liters and talk.”

  I shuddered. “We’re burning this Jeep as soon as we get to Vegas.”

  “Of course, Dieter. One must always hide the evidence.”

  I tried focusing on the radio. The storm clouds had melted over the desert. The sliver of a moon set off to the right. I glanced over at Rei in the dim light. Dried blood coated most of her features, a reminder that she’d just taken four lives like a butcher. But her eyes still held that pleasant sparkle, and she mouthed the words to the ancient song like a happy child. There was just so much I didn’t get. How was I supposed to act after one of these spree killings? What was I supposed to do?

  “Thank you for not biting me,” I offered.

  Rei shot me a nervous glance. This territory was rocky for the both of us.

  “You are welcome.”

  I frowned. Where to go with this…

  “Does your own blood taste good?”

  “I did not expect this.” She chuckled. “Does your own spit taste good?”

  “Um…sorta?”

  “Exactly.” She flexed her well-healed forearm. “The real pudding is the pain.”

  “That’s deep.”

  “Indeed. But what is troubling you…we’ve had a good night’s hunting, have we not?”

  “The why,” I replied.

  She cocked her head. “You wonder why a nice old woman would attempt to rape and kill you?”

  “Well…basically.”

  “Do not take it so personally, kumpadre. Councilwoman Fremont seemed to like you and the Druid a great deal.”

  “But she tried to kill us.”

  “Dieter, Roald Amundsen loved his sled dogs very much, but he would have ended up like Robert Scott if he did not slaughter them for their meat.”

  “Did you just reference the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration to explain why Madam Fremont attempted to deploy a rape-monster on me?”

  “Indeed—but should you not be asking why I have no need to puzzle?”

  I looked at her with suspicion. This was a trap.

  “Okay, Rei. Why have you no need to puzzle?”

  Rei granted me a full-fang smile.

  “Because all will be answered after I separate Diego Carrera from his skin.”

  I grimaced. “You are so not getting a Christmas present this year.”

  I tried to ignore the way my heart thudded her words. I tried to ignore the blood beneath her nails. The road had been winding. My fate was still unknown to me. But Rei was right in some freakish way. We were getting closer to answers, whether we wanted them or not. I thought about my old house. I thought about my old haunts. I could still feel the warming fondness that only the familiar brings. I was headed home to Las Vegas—headed back to my father—and this time I was bringing company.

  Part III

  THE VALLEY KEEPS HER SECRETS

  Chapter 14

  COMING IN HOT

  “Still, I fail to see the point of these ridiculous costumes.”

  “Oh, come on, Rei, it’s like we’re secret agents.” Jules formed her fingers into a gun and struck a pose. “The name’s Bond, Jules Bond. Capow!”

  “Charming, Druid,” Rei replied. She turned to me. “I feel every draft. Your culture is corrupt.”

  “Hey, I didn’t make the world, I just live in it,” I said, struggling with my bow tie. “It’s just a uniform. Thousands of cocktail waitresses wear them every day. And besides, I think you make a good Bunnicula.”

  Rei’s eyes narrowed. “Let me assist you with that bow tie.”

  I sprung away from her grasp. “Back-off the neck, woman. Dante, you figure yours out yet?”

  Dante was mumbling something about over, up, around, and through. He shook his head in the negative. “Maybe I should shroud around instead of deli
vering room service.”

  “No, Dante. We need to talk to as many—”

  Rei caught me by the neck. I yelped. She was a wee bit too good at that…

  “Stand still,” she commanded. She centered my collar and did something mysterious to the bow. After giving me a wry smile, she gestured at the mirror.

  “Wow,” I said. “It’s perfect.”

  “Me next,” Dante begged.

  “Normally, I just undo them, but reverse engineering the process is quite simple,” Rei commented.

  Dante went as pale as his starched white shirt. “Thanks,” he croaked.

  It was December 17th. Dante, Rei, Jules, and I had arrived in Las Vegas four days ago. We rented a small apartment under the guise of two couples moving to the valley for work. The building was right next to the Strip. Aside from the sweet smell of trash and the nightly gunfire, it was a charming part of town. Monique and the rest of the crew were camped out in a DEA safe house across the valley in Henderson. They planned to keep their heads low until we could dredge up something useful. Finally suited up for work, the four of us sat down at the kitchen table for our daily meeting.

  “Let’s go over everything from the top,” Dante said. “Dieter.”

  “Roger dodger. Seven months ago, Talmax purchased the Over the Top Resort and Casino. The reason for the buy is pretty obvious. Owning a casino is one of the best possible ways to launder money. You take your illicit earnings, mix them in with the cash that the gamblers use to buy chips, and walk out the back door with a nearly untraceable stream of income. Normally, this would never be allowed to happen. The state wouldn’t issue a gaming license to a group like Talmax, and the Feds would nail them right quick if they tried washing money—but things aren’t normal. The Slump has the state gaming commission willing to look the other way if Talmax’s investment means an influx of cash and jobs, and every local DEA agent is on permanent exhibition in the morgue. But this development isn’t all bad news. If Carrera and his crew are cocky enough to buy a freakin’ casino, it tells us something important: they’re getting sloppy.”

  Dante nodded. “And if Talmax is getting sloppy, they’re probably getting loose-lipped too.”