by John Ringo
“Or maybe some people who are a bit more grounded,” Regina said, leading her over to another set of couches. Three men were engrossed in an article in a magazine.
“I keep wanting to go down to Houston and strangle the head of NASA,” one of the men said. He was tall with a rangy build, bald as a cue ball and wearing a Hawaiian shirt. “There was so much promise there.”
“It’s like SFWA, really,” another man said. Slighter and darker, he wore a suit that was rumpled and had papers sticking out of most of the pockets. “At a certain point, the rule weenies take over.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s quite as bad as SFWA…” The third man was slight, blond and darkly tanned, with an English accent.
“Robert, Ike, John, this is Doris,” Regina said.
“Ah, the Dawn Queen,” John said, standing up and bowing over her hand. Unlike Clark, he didn’t attempt to kiss it. “Welcome to the Green Room, charming lady.”
“Down, John,” Robert said, smiling at her. “What do you think of the modern space program, miss?”
“I think they jumped the shark with the Shuttle,” Doris said. “Once they’d dug the hole they just kept digging deeper to see if they could find gold. Which was a bit like looking for it in Kansas.”
“I suspect it went to an earlier point than that,” Ike said, shaking his head. “One could see the future history of the program in the early control by the bureaucracy of almost every aspect. If one had a sufficiently advanced computer and a proper model, one could almost certainly predict every action that has taken place…”
“Yes, yes, if you had a sufficiently advanced computer,” Robert said. “One terabyte not enough. One petabyte not enough? How much is enough, Ike?”
“Hey, I’ve practically got a terabyte in my phone.”
Doris spun around at the voice and grinned when she saw Kelly.
“They let you in here?” she asked.
“I can get anywhere,” Kelly said.
“Yes,” Regina said, dryly. “Like crotch rot.”
“Technically, I think that is only found in the cro…” Ike said then trailed off at her glare.
“A terabyte in your phone?” Robert said, incredulously. “I hate modern society. I suppose you… text?”
“Blackberry,” Kelly said, holding up his phone. “You really need to catch up here, Robert. It’s embarrassing that somebody like me can figure out something you envisioned better than you can.”
“I didn’t envision…ringtones,” Robert said dryly. “I wish no one had. If I hear one more acid rock song in the restaurant…”
“Unless you’re talking about Jimmy,” Kelly said, gesturing over to a black guy by the wall, chatting up a blonde in a long white dress, “you’re probably not talking about acid rock. Metal, maybe…”
“Whatever,” Robert said. “It all sounds the same. And I also didn’t envision phone porn.”
“Got that one right,” John said, holding up a finger. “But the social implications turned out to be somewhat…muted,” he finished in a puzzled tone.
“ I refused to switch to that newfangled touch tone,” Ike said, proudly.
“Isaac, did you just use ‘newfangled’ in a sentence?” Kelly asked. “Regina, you’ve got things to do to prepare for Closing. Why don’t I show her around?”
“I think I’d rather entrust a child to a tiger,” Regina said.
“But you do have things to do, don’t you?” Kelly said.
“Yes,” Regina said. “The problem being, I’m trying to figure out which side of the field you’re playing.”
“I never play the field,” Kelly said. “Astara would kill me. Seriously, I’ll have her to Ceremonies on time.”
“Why?” Regina said, suspiciously.
“Oh, come on,” Kelly said, grinning. “You know the amount of chaos it’s going to cause.”
“That sounds suspiciously like honesty,” Robert said.
“Yes, it does,” Regina said. “Which makes me even more nervous.”
“She’ll be there on time,” Kelly said. “And I swear on my hon…well, I swear on Robert’s honor that she’ll be fine.”
“Knowing this is probably a bad idea…” Regina said, then kissed Doris on the cheek. “Truth is, when there’s fun involved in the outcome, you really can trust Kelly. So I’ll see you at Dead Dog.”
“Okay,” Doris said. “ What chaos?” she continued, looking at Kelly.
“Oh, you know,” he said, leading her away. “Angst. Jealousy. Plans ruined. Dead Dog is the official moment for all the angst built up during the con to come pouring out. Don’t sweat it. It’s not about you, really. It’s just…get this many big egos all in one place and you end up with blood on the walls. So who do you want to see?”
“Uhm…” Doris said. So far every “guest” had been fascinating. “I don’t know, who do you suggest?”
“Let’s take the grand promenade,” Kelly said, offering her his arm. “ Everyone wants to meet the Dawn Queen.”
“Time for Dead Dog,” Regina said.
Again Doris had that moment of disconnect. She’d been wandering the Green Room for what seemed like hours but had almost no recollection of exactly what she’d been doing. She’d met dozens of people and vaguely remembered being fascinated by all of them, but with the exception of a guy in Revolutionary period dress named George, subject governmental structure and politics, she really didn’t recall anything in detail.
“Has somebody been slipping me something?” she asked, looking over at Kelly. She blinked rapidly and shook her head. “When did you change into costume?”
Kelly was wearing Viking period dress, except that it was silk, which wasn’t normal Viking fare, and while he looked exactly the same, tall, slim, long blond hair going gray, he had a more saturnine look than she remembered.
“Seriously, we have to hurry, now,” Regina said, taking her hand. Regina was wearing what Doris first took to be scale armor, then couldn’t decide if it was supposed to be just scales. Or, possibly, diamonds. It seemed to be drifting from one to the other. “It’s out on the balcony.”
“What balcony?” Doris asked as they stepped through the door. She thought she had been all over the suite, but never noticed that there was a balcony.
“This isn’t a balcony,” she squeaked as they stepped through the doorway. The Green Room must have been on the top of the hotel, because they were outside on what looked like the roof. But the roofs of hotels always had walls around them, and this one didn’t.
For that matter, the con took place in downtown Atlanta. She knew that. She’d been moving around the hotels. She knew, in general, what the surrounding area looked like.
It was not a mountain range.
“Where is this?”
“The balcony of the Green Room,” Regina said, her voice shifting in and out in liquid syllables. Doris had never even thought about “doing it” with a girl but the syllables went right to her insides. She also now appeared younger. And older.
“Okay, somebody has been slipping me drugs,” Doris said as the mountaintop started to fill with the people of the Green Room. They seemed to be splitting into camps, and she saw Shane with his zombies gathering to one side. On the other, Fig, also wearing armor, was standing by the side of Edmund Wodinaz. Edmund was wearing Viking dress, an eyepatch, and a broad hat, and carried a spear. He looked just as elderly as the last time Doris had seen him but the term “spry” came to mind. Also “dangerous.”
“No, sweetie,” Regina said, her voice going melodious and liquid. “This is where you have been the whole time, in the heart of the Dragon, the place where dreams become reality and reality is, for a time, but a dream. But it’s time for you to go now. You are the Chosen, sent to bring the message of the Dragon to the world. For this year…”
“I challenge!” Garnet snarled. “She has been given illicit support throughout the con. The rules have been broken!”
“She quested for allies and found them,” Regin
a said, tightly. “She was given no support from within the convention nor by convention personnel other than that to which she was entitled. I never even spoke to her nor influenced her actions until she had won the contest, and she is my avatar! Such support as she obtained came from those who loved her, trusted her and supported her. She is properly Chosen. That is the one and only rule. You had your chance and you blew it. And if we wish to discuss rule breaking, you used physical violence.”
“And I’m about to use more!” Garnet said, straightening up and waving to the group gathering on the north side of the mountain. “I shall not be denied! My acolytes gather for sacrifice and my allies are prepared to open the way.”
“Do you think you are the only one with acolytes?” Edmund said, smiling tightly and gesturing behind him. “Or allies? And I note you seem to be missing many of both. Where is this summoning? Where are these allies?”
“They are…” Garnet said, looking around. Her side did seem a bit…small. “This will not be!” She reached behind her back and a sword of black flame appeared in her hand.
“Got that covered,” Edmund said, drawing a battle-axe from midair. “You’re going down, bitch. I’ve had about enough of your prancing.”
“I was rage and power when your followers were trying to make spears from flint!” Garnet shouted.
“ Now she’s willing to admit her age,” Frig said, a shining spear appearing in her hand. “Want a shawl, grandma?”
“At least she still has followers,” Svar said, drawing a blade of midnight.
“Oh, yeah?” Edmund said. “In case you didn’t get the update, Michael’s avatar is going through them like Garnet through a case of chocolates.”
“You Aesir bastard…!” Garnet screamed, charging forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Kelly said, a microphone suddenly appearing in his hand. “In the south corner weighing in at the Hosts of Valhalla…Odin One Eye, King of the Aesir! And his lovely wife Frig! In the north corner weighing in at the Hosts of Hel…Garnet Osemala, Queen of Rage and Darkness! And her lovely consort Svar Balog, of course! Welcome tooooo…ARMEGEDDON SMACKDOWN! And I will be your host for this annual Ragnarok…Loki the Jester!”
“And it’s time for you to go,” Regina said, as the two armies charged and Garnet swelled into a vast demonic form. Freya led Doris to the edge of the precipice and gestured for her to jump. “Time to Return.”
“I can’t jump off of that,” Doris said. “I’ll die.”
“You’ll be fine,” Freya said, giving her a push. It was like being hit by a mallet, and Doris suddenly found herself falling. “And I will be with you always…my Child of Life.”
“Wow,” Janea said as Barb walked into the room. “You look like you should be in this bed.”
The normally pristine Christian Adept was covered in blood, and her tacticals looked destined for the rag bin. Even her hair was a mess, which Janea had never seen.
“I’m heading for one,” Barb said, walking over and taking her hand. “I heard you’d come out of your…You were awake and I came right over.”
“What happened?” Janea asked.
“The…usual,” Barb said, frowning. “Zombies. succubae, and heroes to add to the wall. I think we shut this one down hard. I hope so. Stepfords are a nightmare. Are you okay?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been better,” Janea said, taking a sip of water. “I’m sort of stiff from lying on my back and I’m having a hard time with balance but I feel…great.”
“Do you remember anything?” Barb asked. “I tried to send you support when I could.”
“I’m not sure,” Janea said. “You’re not the first one to ask. I sort of remember meeting people. And something about dancing. But other than that, not much. Apparently Sharice, Wulfgar and Drakon are in the same boat. Whatever happened on the other side, somebody doesn’t want us recalling it too clearly.”
“Not too surprising,” Barb said, leaning over to hug her. “I don’t really care. I’m just glad to have my Janea back.”
“I’m glad to be back, too,” Janea said, frowning. “And sad at the same time. Barb?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make a habit of it or anything,” Janea said. “But…it’s okay if you call me Doris.”
BOOK TWO
Old Time Religion
CHAPTER ONE
“What do we got?”
Sonny Cribbs had been sheriff in Claiborne County since before the deputy he was addressing was born. On his return from two tours in Vietnam, he’d figured it was off to the mill for a life of cutting trees into lumber. But there was an opening in the sheriff’s department and he was a veteran in good standing. That and a poppa who’d been managing the sheriff’s campaigns for ten years was all it took.
Slim, dark and tanned, his wife still occasionally had to deal with nightmares of tunnels and bodies.
Back then there’d been nothing like “certification” for a deputy. You put on the badge and you got to work. By the time it’d come up, he’d been elected sheriff and nobody had asked about his credentials since.
Mostly his credentials were pushing forty years of seeing what man could and would do to man.
The single-wide trailer had seen better days. Probably decades ago. Set back in Mathis Hollow off Slate Creek Lane, its existence was marked only by a dirt road and a battered mailbox.
And now police tape.
“Two victims.” Deputy Sheriff Randell Smith was what Sheriff Cribbs could not avoid calling “The New Breed.” Five-seven and stocky even without his body armor, he looked like a Marine, which he had been. He’d been through all the right schools before applying to be a deputy. He came in knowing the lingo and all the right buzzwords. Good boy, but sometimes Sonny wondered if they permanently implanted a stick in officers’ asses in the Academy. On the other hand, maybe it was a Marine thing. “Male, thirty-eight, one Elvis Cowper. Female, age thirty-seven, one Amy Cowper, his spouse. Missing subject is Lora Cowper, age fourteen, daughter.”
“Damn,” Sheriff Cribbs said, spitting out a stream of tobacco juice. “Walk me through.”
“Nine-one-one received a call from the missing subject’s school when missing subject failed to make the bus,” the deputy said, occasionally glancing at his notes. “Phone calls to the residence were unanswered. A call to the mother’s work determined she had not shown up. At which point they called nine-one-one. Officer arrived on scene at eight forty-seven AM. Door was open. Officer entered and found subjects in state of rigor mortis. Officer called for investigation team.”
“And the officer was…?” Sonny asked.
“Myself, sir,” the deputy said, closing his book.
“See anything ain’t in that little book, son?” the sheriff asked.
“Lots, sir,” the deputy said, his face working. “And it’s not easy to describe. Which is why it’s not in the little book.”
“Let’s go,” Sonny said, sighing.
The interior of the trailer wasn’t neat, but Sonny had seen a lot worse. However, it was also obvious that there’d been some sort of a struggle. A table was overturned and a corner of a wall was busted.
“Looks like somebody was fighting,” the sheriff said.
“That’s what I thought, sir,” the deputy said. “But you might want to wait on that.”
Inside the “master bedroom” were the victims.
“We got us a sicko,” Sonny said, walking carefully to the bed.
The mother and father were spread-eagled on the bed. The mother’s nightdress was pulled up and she clearly had been violated. For that matter, the father’s pants were bloody. So were their mouths, and a ring of redness was around both victims’ ankles and wrists.
“Forensics still hasn’t gotten here,” the deputy said, swallowing. “But there’s a bunch of stuff strange about this.”
“Got that right,” Sonny said, bending over to look in the father’s mouth. “There’s blood in there. Like it’s all cut up. But I do
n’t see no cuts.”
“Yes, sir,” the deputy said.
“And what the hell’s that smell?” the sheriff asked, sniffing. He didn’t really have to, the whole trailer reeked of it. “It ain’t dead bodies. These ain’t been here long enough to smell that bad. But that’s what it smells like.”
“Yes, sir,” the deputy said, clearly relieved. “You see what I meant by this is stuff I couldn’t exactly note. I’m not sure how to. And there’s a couple of other things.”
The daughter’s room was obviously in transition from girl to teenager. There were still dolls piled on the floor, but there were more pictures of rock bands on the wall than “My Little Pony.” And the window was open. The screen was pushed out.
“She get away?” the sheriff asked.
“I don’t…think so, sir,” the deputy said. “There are marks on the door frame like somebody scratched at it. Like…”
“They were dragged out,” the sheriff said, sighing. “Real sicko.”
“Knock-knock,” a voice sounded from outside the trailer.
“I hate it when the FBI gets here before Forensics,” the sheriff said, his face turning to a snarl. “Randell, find out where the hell Forensics is!”
“Yes, sir,” the deputy said, carefully sidling out of the trailer.
“Outside,” the sheriff said when he got to the door. “God only knows what we’ve already fucked up.”
“As you say, Sheriff,” one of the agents said, nodding.
Once well away from the crime scene Sheriff Cribbs took the time to switch out his chew, then nodded at the agents.
“Sheriff Sonny Cribbs,” he said. “And you be?”
“Special Agent Clement Adams,” the first one said, nodding back. “And Special Agent Rain Diller.”
Adams was from the same block that created Randell. Medium height, light brown hair, stocky but not quite the lifter look. More like he’d wrassled in college. Diller was slimmer, with dark brown hair, but when he took off his glasses for a second, Sonny caught a look he hadn’t seen in a long time. It wasn’t the look that boys back from Iraq usually had. It was more like the Vietnam Thousand-Mile Stare. Diller might be an agent, but he was a killer at heart.