“It's, uh... cool, dad.” I tongued the caramel off of my molars and slowly made my way over to the dusty, checkered sofa on the opposite side of the room. It was cluttered with bags of junk, which I set on the floor. My dad was something of a hoarder; not serious enough to get on TV, maybe, but enough to make his basement a total clusterfuck. There were boxes in the corner of this room that hadn't been opened since I was a kid, boxes whose contents he'd have been at a complete loss to detail.
Kubo watched the train go around the track with an incredulous smile on his face, but said nothing. God, he was going to give me a lot of shit about this.
Joe sank into the dusty cushions of the sofa beside me, hacking up a lung as he did so. “Cool trains, Mr. Colt,” he said, leaning his head back. His face was covered in small nicks and burns, and what I could see of his arms beneath his shredded jacket indicated serious bruises.
Finally, my dad shut the train set off and shot me a serious look. “I'm going to head upstairs for some popcorn if anyone's interested in joining me. Trying to catch up on reruns of Seinfeld on the TiVo.”
“T-that's OK, dad. We'll be... down here.”
Slowly, my father started up the stairs. “Just, uh... don't mess with the trains, all right?”
The door closed and I loosed a great sigh.
Kubo shook his head, but I was quick to intercept him. “Don't say a fucking word.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The Chief yanked his stack of seals out and started leafing through them. Then, pulling out his cell phone, he hit a few buttons and placed a call to HQ. “This is Kubo. I made it out of the park with Joe and Lucian, but we lost a lot of men back there. The necromancer toppled the chopper and the SUVs, save one. I know that Percival Sterling and a handful of men made it out, however I don't think Kanta pulled through. Emergency personnel were headed to the site. There may be survivors.”
I could hear Amundsen on the other end. “Are you in a safe place right now? Where should we send the pick-up?”
Kubo glanced around at the cluttered basement, fighting back the urge to laugh. He pushed one of the trains around the track with his finger. “Safe place? Yeah, I think we're safe here for the time being. We're going to get a bit of rest. We're in a house on Kenwood Drive. Send along an SUV, and be discrete. I have a feeling Agamemnon's minions will be looking out for more of our vehicles.”
Amundsen promised to send someone along and hung up. With that out of the way, Kubo joined us on the sofa and massaged his eyes. “Don't suppose your dad has something to eat that isn't full of peanuts?”
“I'm sure there are some leftovers or something. I'll go look.” I rose from the sofa with a groan. Despite Gadreel's healing abilities, I still felt like a wreck. It would probably take me a few days, several big meals and a good deal of sleep to get back to one-hundred percent.
A shame that we weren't working on that sort of time.
I climbed the stairs and walked in on my dad guffawing to an episode of Seinfeld. “Mind if I look in the fridge, dad?” I asked, peeking out from the kitchen.
“Go right ahead,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the screen. He rocked back and forth in the old recliner, its stuffing poking out of busted seams, and had a big laugh, almost spilling his bowl of popcorn.
The fridge was pretty well stocked, and I wasn't shy about picking out the good stuff. A few bags of deli meat and cheese, a big Tupperware full of cantaloupe melon and a loaf of freshly baked bread would be a good start. I tucked each of the containers under my arm and prepared to head back to the basement when I caught a glance of something in the back yard and almost dropped it all on the floor.
At my dad's house, just over the kitchen sink, there's a small window looking out into the back yard. As a kid, my dad would watch my brother and I goofing off in the yard through there while doing dishes. Well, as I stood there right then, about to make off like a bandit with a few pounds of cold cuts, I froze. There was someone in the back yard. They'd mounted the chain-link fence and were now taking short, unsteady steps towards the house.
The advance was undoubtedly zombie-like. I carefully set the food down on the counter and clenched my teeth, watching as the shambling figure got closer and closer to the house. They'd made it. The zombies were fanning out into the nearby neighborhoods, ready to wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting citizens of Detroit. I'd hoped to avoid this, that a brief pit stop at my dad's would allow us time enough to rest before taking up the fight again. No such luck.
I paused near the back door, wondering if I shouldn't alert Kubo and Joe of the unwelcome visitor. No, there wasn't time for that. If the thing made it into the house, there would be chaos. It might even attack my dad. Opening the door very quietly so as not to draw attention, I slipped out into the dark yard and zeroed in on the intruder.
I broke into a sprint, racing towards the figure and meeting it in the yard before it could even get past the garden. I trampled my dad's tulips and put up my dukes, reaching out and grabbing the bastard's ragged collar.
“What the fuck are you doing?” asked the zombie in my grasp, trying to break free.
It turns out it wasn't a zombie after all. “K-kanta, is that you?” Looking her over in the moonlight, I loosened my grip and laughed. “Are you OK? I thought you were a goner!”
Kanta dusted herself off, looking like she'd been dragged to the house by a wild animal, and grimaced. “No, I made it out. When Agamemnon hit the chopper I jumped. Managed to land OK but I messed up my ankle. Can't get around as well as I'd like. I was looking for some place I could stop and rest.”
“And you found this house? That's a perfect coincidence; we were just inside, hoping to rest up a little. We have a ride coming from headquarters to pick us up soon.”
“You didn't let me finish,” she said, refusing my offer of help and limping towards the back door. “I was looking for a place to rest, but then I sensed your demon energy and figured you were alive. I followed the trail all the way here.”
That made more sense. “Glad I could help,” I said. “And the rest of the guys? Did any of them make it?”
In way of reply, she simply shook her head gravely. I didn't need the details. Didn't want them, frankly.
I opened the back door and invited Kanta inside. “Just be quiet. My dad's kind of a weird guy.”
“This is your dad's house?” she muttered, stepping into the kitchen. “Why'd you come here? If the necromancer finds you out... you could put your father in danger.”
Locking the back door, I picked up all of the food on the counter and led her on tip-toe to the cellar. Except, with her ankle being all mangled, she couldn't exactly get on tip toes and the sounds of her foot dragging across the linoleum attracted my dad's attention.
“W-who's that, sport?” asked my dad, sitting up in his chair.
“Oh, this is Kanta. She's a friend of mine, an exchange student from India,” I lied. “She hurt her ankle earlier.”
My dad grinned like a jackass. “A friend, eh? I don't suppose you're Lucy's girlfriend, are you? I tell you, that boy never introduces me to his lady friends anymore!”
Gee, dad. I wonder why that is.
I leaned in towards her. “Just play along,” I said under my breath. “It'll be easier that way.”
“Oh, yes,” said Kanta, trotting out her Indian accent. “I am the girlfriend.” My dad seemed to buy it, but had he caught the unbridled hatred in her eyes as she looked at me, even his clueless ass might've smelled a rat.
“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Kanta. Make yourself at home.” With that, my dad settled back into his chair and dribbled Miller Light all over his sweater thanks to some deadpan witticism courtesy of George Costanza.
I closed the basement door and helped Kanta down the stairs, but rather than accept my help, she kicked me in the shin with her good foot and soldiered down on her own. “Why did you think that would be a good idea?” she asked. “I'm not playing along like that agai
n.” She was in terrible pain, wincing with every sloppy step, but determined to get down on her own.
I rolled my eyes. “I'll say. You weren't even convincing. You could've felt up my muscles or something, you know?”
Joe and Kubo were startled as Kanta entered the basement. “So, you did make it,” said the Chief, getting up and appraising her mangled foot. “What happened to you out there? Encounter any more trouble after the chopper crashed?”
Kanta gave a brief report of events while I put together turkey sandwiches. “The zombies returned to the woods with the necromancer. But not before Agamemnon raised all of the dead on the scene. The dead commandos were brought back, and any corpse that hadn't been completely burnt walked off to the stronghold with him. He probably thought he'd killed all of us, and I had to lay low for quite a while. I jumped out of the helicopter just in time. Another instant and I'd have been blown to pieces. The pilot wasn't so lucky...”
For a while, we sat and ate. There wasn't really anything to talk about. We didn't have a plan in place yet and we were all too beat up to think straight. The sandwiches went down nice and easy, and I returned to the fridge for a bottle of icy Perrier, which we all split. The food brought back a little sanity, but the longer I sat there, the more hopeless I felt.
“So,” I asked Kubo. “What're we gonna do?”
Like I'd just asked him what he thought about a picture in a museum, he shrugged casually. “Beats me.”
So, that was it? The dude in charge didn't have anything to offer us? No shred of hope to cling to? No rallying cry? Were we just to sit around in my dad's basement waiting for the end of the world to unfold, then? “That's anticlimactic... and depressing. Isn't there some way to kill this guy, or to destroy that weapon?” I folded up a piece of turkey. “The way I see it, if we make that scythe of his go away, the whole thing falls apart. Trouble is, he never lets the thing out of his sight. There has to be some spell we can use to counter its powers. That thing isn't the be-all, end-all of the magical world, is it? What if we got our hands on a stronger weapon?”
“A stronger weapon?” said Kubo. “Maybe, but that sounds like a stretch. There is an expert we could consult. Mona mentioned someone-- Germaine Fox-- who knows about this sort of thing. She wanted us to get in touch with him. I vetoed the plan because it seemed too slow to me, but considering what we're up against we may not have a choice. If anyone knows how to destroy or counter the Scythe of Thanatos, it would be this Germaine Fox. But never mind that. What we really need to figure out is how much time we've got. Agamemnon could wage an all-out attack on the city at any time.” He took a few bites of his sandwich and weighed his thoughts carefully. “He'll attack at night, I'm sure. His forces are weaker by day, so any offensives he launches will be after dark. It's getting pretty late tonight, so with any luck he and his army will be retiring soon. Still, we're working on a strict timeline.”
“Hey, Chief, what day is it today?” I asked.
“I guess it's Sunday now, why?” Kubo took a swig of Perrier.
“I was afraid of that.” Since taking on Gadreel, I'd started monitoring the calendar with a lot more closeness. In particular, I'd begun tracking the different phases of the moon. Whenever there was a new moon, the demon would take me over completely till sunrise. It was a nasty side-effect of my transplant. As a result, the Veiled Order kept me locked up in a special containment room on the night of the new moon.
Let's get one thing straight: When little old me gets carried away, running amok through the city trying to save it, stuff ends up going to shit. When Gadreel takes over, though? Man... that's a bad time. It was absolutely essential to the safety of the city that I get locked away on the night of the new moon, lest Gadreel go on a brutal tour of Detroit.
But the new moon was coming up soon. On Monday, in fact. That meant I'd be out of commission Monday night, unable to participate in the fight against Agamemnon, should he decide to launch a strike. Technically, the leaders of the Veiled Order could release me anyhow, let me take him on in the event of a widespread zombie attack. But they'd never go for it, I was certain. They'd be stupid to. The only thing it would accomplish would be a speedier destruction of the city. When Gadreel was calling the shots he wasn't exactly the nicest guy.
“I see what you're saying,” said Kubo. “The new moon's coming.” He shook his head. “We'll worry about that later. As things stand, there's no telling if we'll even make it till Monday.”
“Well, maybe we'll put a stop to all of this before then, right?” added Joe cheerfully.
Everyone in the room glared at him. “Thanks for the optimism,” replied Kanta.
I popped a few chunks of cantaloupe into my mouth and sat down on the floor cross-legged. “This guy, the one who knows about all of the old weapons and stuff. Where can we find him?”
“He lives in the Underground.” Standing up to pace, Kubo looked over my dad's replica. “You've been with me to Mona's a few times now. You remember that other path around her place? It leads to the Underground, a bustling community where denizens of the Beyond sometimes congregate. It's a seedy place.”
“Ah-ha!” I snapped my fingers. “So that's what's over there!” Kubo and Joe hadn't told me anything about that other path near Mona's cottage, simply telling me I “wasn't ready” to know. “So, what's the big deal?” I asked. “Let's go knock on his door.”
“I suppose we could send you knocking on his door.” The Chief hooked his thumbs into his pockets. “I'm going to be waist-deep in shit, trying to sort things out at HQ. You can go see him, though. I'll give you the address and you can ask around. Course, I'm not going to let you go alone.” He turned to Kanta. “You're going to be on bed rest till we can patch you up. How're you feeling, Joe?”
Joe smoothed back his chestnut-colored hair. “W-well, I'm all right, I guess. B-but...”
“Perfect. First thing in the morning, the two of you can set out to visit Germaine Fox.” Kubo looked up towards the stairs. “We should keep a lookout for our pick-up. They'll be by any minute.”
One-by-one, we all got up and started up the stairs. Kanta was last, holding onto the handrail and pulling herself up while keeping weight off of her busted ankle. “Sure you don't want some help?” I offered.
“Thanks, but I'd rather die,” she said without a hint of amusement. I believed her.
We left the basement and gathered in the living room, where my dad had been dozing off in front of the TV. “Thanks for the food, dad. We're going to be heading out soon.” I glanced timidly through the living room window at the street outside, hoping that the jet black SUV would turn up sooner, rather than later.
“No problem, champ. Any time. You should come by and visit more often, in fact. I feel like I hardly ever see you these days.” He knocked stray bits of popcorn from his sweater and stood up. “Let me know if you need anything, bud.”
I hugged him awkwardly, and he gave my lats a hard squeeze before subtly warning me about the dangers of steroid use. “Don't worry,” I told him. “These guns are all-natural.” Technically, I guess they were supernatural, but whatever. He wouldn't have believed me, and I'd have caused him a lot more grief had I explained to him that his son had taken on a demon's heart and would one day be bound for Hell.
I gulped as we broke our embrace and shuffled to the front door. The world was pressing down on my shoulders and I couldn't bear the weight of these bombshells anymore. I felt like I'd give under the strain at any moment. First, there was damnation. Me, trapped in Hell after death. I couldn't wrap my head around it no matter how many times I thought about it. And then there was the fact that we were on the verge of a war between the living and the dead. Would I ever see my dad again after this, or would his place end up getting smashed by Agamemnon's horde? Would I have to target my own father if he got resurrected by the necromancer?
For that matter, what about my brother, Conrad? I had a pretty strong feeling that, somewhere in the city, my d
ead older brother was shambling around with the rest of those maggots, preparing to wreak havoc. I'd seen a lot of shit tonight and killed my fair share of undead, but there were some things I still didn't feel strong enough to face, and that was one of 'em.
The entire world was about to fall to pieces, and my dad didn't have the slightest idea. He thought me and the others were just on the tail-end of a bender, looking gnarly after a rough night. He couldn't have been more off the mark. I wanted to tell him what was really going on, give him a chance to escape the pandemonium that would soon break out across Detroit.
Kubo seemed to see it in my eyes and abruptly stepped in to shut me up. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said to my father while simultaneously nudging me towards the door. “I think I see our ride.”
Kanta and Joe muttered their goodbyes and we all made our way out onto the lawn. The door closed behind us just as the headlights of a midnight-colored SUV lit up the street.
Gripping my shoulder, Kubo leaned towards me. “We don't have time to mourn what hasn't happened yet. We've got a day, at least. Let's make the best of it. Even if you tried to get him out of town, your dad would never understand.”
The Chief was right, of course. I knew that. But it didn't stop me from thinking about what we were up against and how close we were to Armageddon. This was the city I'd grown up in. I had family here, friends, memories. If Agamemnon had his way he'd tear the place cleanly off the map and then move on to the next town. Everything I'd ever cared about would be gone in a flash. I wasn't alone in that; everyone here had something or someone to lose.
The SUV pulled up to the curb. The driver got out and opened the doors so we could pile in. Kubo and Kanta sat in the middle while Joe and I got into the back. Since we'd left the basement Joe had been kind of quiet, fidgety, and I figured I knew why.
Roaring Blood (Demon-Hearted Book 2) Page 14