Those Who Walk in Darkness so-1

by John Ridley

  Soledad: "I heard about a guy who was out fishing, he yawned, a fish jumped out of the water, down his throat and he choked to death."

  Everyone waited for the punch line.

  Soledad confirmed her story."It's the truth. I mean, I read it… Heard it."

  Bo wasn't buying."Sounds like one of those urban legends."

  "How's it gonna be an urban legend?" Yarborough wanted to know."How's somebody going to go fishing in the city?"

  "In New York, in the lake in Central Park you can—"

  Whitaker got himself another look from Soledad. Whitaker shut up again.

  Yarborough laughed."Yawned and choked on a fish. That is truly messed up."

  The other four laughed too.

  "I mean, seriously, you are some kind of loser. That's like having a fatal accident shuffling cards."

  More laughs, a little stronger.

  "Hell, if I knew there was a fish out there with my name on it, I'd pay a freak to burn a hole in my chest."

  The laughing stopped: Just that fast and just that casual Yarborough had said too much. The five cops had to spend about a minute standing around in his embarrassment.

  Yarborough didn't know what to say. He had meant nothing by his remark. No disrespect to the still-cooling Reese, as disrespectful as it had come off. But to speak on it further, to try and apologize, would only serve to prolong the discomfort.

  Bo gave them direction: "How 'bout we take a moment, say a prayer?"

  Five white-gloved hands reached head-high and removed uniform caps. Five heads bowed in quiet tribute.

  Four police officers, in their thoughts, best they could, strung together bits of eloquence in asking God to give Reese comfort and love in her passing.

  Soledad prayed a little different. She prayed a little more simply. God, she requested, give me one more chance to kill every freak that wanders into my crosshairs.

  A respectful amount of time later Bo lifted his head, his cap went back on.

  He said: "All right. We all got things to do other than stand around, so how about we get back to them?" The subtext of the statement being: Life goes on, people. Reese is dead. I miss her. You miss her. But it's time to go back to doing work.

  It was a little cold, Bo's hidden meaning. A little harsh. But it was honest. Reese was gone, respects had been paid and all the standing around, all the crying in the world wasn't going to bring her back. She wasn't the first MTac to go down. Wouldn't be the last.

  Soledad did a quick scan of the other cops. She wondered which of them would be next. No doubt they were thinking the same thing.

  Good-byes got swapped. Bo, Yarborough, Whitaker: they drifted off for their cars. Before Soledad knew it, could do much about it, it was just her and Vin.

  Vin looked at Soledad. Held his look.

  "You want something?"

  Vin shrugged."You okay?"

  Soledad took a casual, spiteful glance around the cemetery."Yeah. Great. You know a better place to spend your days?"

  She started to walk.

  Vin paced her."You hungry?"

  "No."

  "Want something to drink?"

  "Kind of early for that."

  "Doesn't have to be liquor. Just something in a couple of glasses we can sit and talk over."

  Soledad stopped walking. She got with a look of hot disbelief."You trying to pick me up?"

  Vin said nothing to that.

  "You trying to pick me up at a funeral?"

  "I'm trying to talk to you."

  "Sure, and maybe I'll be so overcome with grief you can talk your way into my pants. There, there, Soledad. It's all right, Soledad. Have you seen my bedroom, Soledad?"

  Vin stood looking bored and unaffected by Soledad's little run.

  He asked: "You done? Are you done cracking wise so maybe we can converse like two people?"

  Except that she didn't walk away, Soledad was nonresponsive.

  "All I'm saying is," Vin said, explaining himself,"I want to talk to you. I want to get to know you. I want—"

  "You want a date."

  Vin stuttered, hesitated, tried to think his way around coming out and saying it, but yeah: "I want a date."

  "Sorry. I got a man."

  That was a surprise, not so much for Vin as it was for Soledad. She was attracted to… okay, she liked Ian. He passed for a friend. But in Soledad's world that didn't take much.

  They'd gotten around to having sex.

  But so do drunk salesmen and lonely housewives who meet at the bar/lounge in the airport Ramada.

  And being honest, Soledad would say the sex, though good, was perfunctory. Spectacular only in that Ian wasn't revulsed by, nor did he ask about, Soledad's scars. So she hadn't hardly considered, had never said Ian was her man, and the moment she'd said as much she wondered if she meant it or if she was just using the concept as defense against Vin.

  Vin took the information quite passively."A man?" he repeated."When I asked around, people seemed to figure you for being unattached."

  "Asked around…" Soledad, now, did the repeating. She would have expected herself to be annoyed or pissed at the idea someone was" asking around" about her, digging into her private life. But she found herself to be unexpectedly intrigued by the concept of a guy inquiring after her."Who'd you ask?"

  A shrug."People."

  Soledad worked hard as she could to sound casual, but came off as nothing but curious."… What did they say?"

  "They said be sure not to call you Bullet to your face."

  Soledad's teeth did some grinding.

  Vin did a little smiling."Lot of talk about what's going on with you and IA. That's just talk, so I didn't bother with it. Most said you were a loner, even as cops go. Keep to yourself, don't converse much. So with all that, I didn't figure you were seeing anyone."

  "You figured wrong."

  "Well, good luck with it." A pause."Long as it lasts."

  From the end of a little jaw-dropping scoff: "That supposed to mean something?"

  "It means people like us—"

  "Like us?"

  "Cops. We don't do well in relationships, especially with civilians."

  "Maybe not people like you."

  Vin shook his head to indicate Soledad's wrongness."People like us. C'mon, Soledad. See the things we do, live the way we do, then think we might not be living at all tomorrow. We don't hardly get attached to people. You know that goes double for MTacs. Hard to make commitments when you got to go out and bust guys who can throw buses at you. Look at Reese. You'd been on her element how long? How much did you know about her, her family? Nothing. And she was one of us. With civvies the level of noncommunication just gets multiplied. We need to be alone with our demons."

  Soledad started to say something.

  Vin cut her off with: "Okay. You're the only cop who doesn't have demons. I'm just talking about the rest of us crazies who feel the need to try and arrest gods for a living."

  Vin took a beat.

  Then: "You're not the only loner in the department. You've just got it worse than most."

  "Yeah, well, maybe." Soledad talked fast like what Vin was saying didn't deserve much consideration."But me and my guy—"

  "He got a name?"

  "Yeah, he does. And me and my guy get along good."

  Vin smiled at the lie."Sure. How well did he take you being MTac? I'm sure he was real happy to find out there's a thirty-seventy chance his girl's going to make it home at night."

  Soledad didn't say anything, and what she didn't say spoke volumes for Vin.

  "You didn't tell him? Did you even tell him you were a cop?"

  Soledad looked off somewhere.

  Vin got with a laugh."Oh, that's good. Good luck with this one."

  "You know, if you're trying to win me over, your rap is way off."

  "Wasn't trying to win you over. When I do try," typically cop cocky,"believe me, you're not so icy I couldn't crack you."

  "Then do it."

 
; "… What…?"

  "You're such a hotshot, you've got thirty seconds: crack my ice or leave me the fuck alone."

  Not cocky, flustered."Well, I didn't mean I was going to—"

  "You want me to count your time down for you?"

  Vin took a second, took a couple.

  Soledad smiled, was sorry she'd only given Vin thirty seconds. She liked watching him twist.

  Vin said: "Most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen was the most destructive thing: Mt. Kilauea erupting in Hawaii. You see it at night, you see the red and orange glow of it, you see the warm light of the lava flowing from it, and it looks magnificent. It looks like a… like a living paint running over a canvas. But at the same time it's like a slow-moving death that's just creeping to kill whatever it can find. To burn and burn until it's the only thing left. Nothing can stop it, nothing can stand in its way. That's what's frightening: It's not just a destructive force, it's a destructive force you can't do anything about. But then you think, well, this is nature or God or whatever doing its thing, and that's the point: We can't stop it. We're not supposed to stop it. It's building life from a fire from the heart of the earth. It's like it's all there just to show us how insignificant we are. So don't judge it, don't try to fight it. Just stand back and watch the beauty of it."

  And for a moment after Vin stopped talking Soledad was quiet.

  When she finally said something, it was just: "See you later."

  She started away.

  Vin called to her."You don't like me much."

  Turning back to him just some: "Don't flatter yourself. I don't like you at all."

  "Because I'm replacing Reese?"

  Soledad did the laughing now."Told you before, you're not replacing her. Dead, and you're still not half the BAMF she was."

  Vin nodded to that, not really agreeing, but not trying to make an argument of things."Never meant to replace her. This is where I got put. Just filling a slot. Could've been any cop who got the call."

  "It wasn't any cop. It was you. You got the slot, and you get everything that comes with it. Everything."

  "And you know something," his smile creeping back,"I'll take it. See ya, Bullet."

  Fiero, Martin, Jenkinson, Adetuyi. Valley MTac. The four men, body armor worn in various degrees of regulation, eased up the stairway to the eighth floor, top floor, of an apartment complex in Northridge. Empty. Musty. Abandoned. Abandoned except for a potentially very deadly metanormal who'd managed to remain hidden from floors one through seven.

  Stairwell door. Eighth floor. Fiero was SLO, had point. He peeked his head through the doorway. His eyes swept the space.

  From behind, Adetuyi: "What do we got?"

  "We got nothing." Fiero pulled back into the stairwell."Nothing I can see. Can't see much. Windows boarded up, walls torn out. Lot of boxes. Must've used the floor for storage."

  Fiero's parents were from Mexico. Good Catholics. He was first-gen American. When Fiero told his madre and padre he wanted to be a cop, his mom cried with joy, pride. Their son toting a gun and badge, upholding the law, made them feel more American than the whiter-than-whites who looked down their noses at the Fieros for being in" their" country in the first place. When Fiero went to the academy, his parents saw him off. Graduation day they showed up four hours early, his two sisters in tow, to get front-row seats. The first bust Fiero made—snagged a hophead snatching purses at the end of a dull steak knife in Studio City—got written up, barely, in the Times Valley edition police reports. Fiero wasn't even mentioned by name. His mom cut the article out and built a scrapbook around it.

  Then Fiero told his parents he wanted to be MTac. His dad, who used to be a street fighter back in Mexico just to earn enough pesos to keep his family fed, cried like a little girl. His mom? She put together a small shrine and kept it ready for the day she would light a candle to her dead son.

  "Hate this shit," Martin said."Hate serving warrants."

  "Should've thought of that," Jenkinson,"before you went MTac."

  "Don't like hunting for them, that's what I'm saying. You're on a call, one of them is in the middle of Ventura tossing cars around, okay. You know what you're up against. But this… Hate this shit."

  Fiero: "We know what we're up against. The witness IDed it as an invulnerable."

  "An invulnerable and what else?" Martin asked."Could be a nest of 'em for all we know."

  "Muties don't usually travel in packs. Too easy to get made." Fiero spoke straight from the handbook."Swept seven floors, and no evidence of a cluster."

  "No evidence of anything," Jenkinson said."So let's just do this floor and go home."

  Martin, again: "Really hate this shit."

  Even bulked down with gear, the four cops managed to mist their way onto the top floor low and quiet. Fanning out, they avoided the shafts of light that cut through the window boards, used the crates and boxes for cover.

  In position, they all looked and scanned and listened for the sight or sound that'd say to them" freak."

  Nothing.

  In their earpieces they heard Fiero."Clear?"

  Down the line:

  "Clear."

  "Clear."

  "Clear. Waste of time," Jenkinson added.

  Fiero came back with: "Tell me about it after we finish the floor. Move out. Keep it low, keep it slow."

  They did that. Silent as shadows, the four cops came up from cover, weapons at the ready, and fanned the floor.

  Fiero picked up chatter from Adetuyi."You hear about that chick on Central? Bullet?"

  "Heard she's facing discipline."

  "Yeah. Heard that. And I heard the brass is trying to keep quiet she took out a pyro with a homebrew piece."

  "Wouldn't trust it," Martin piped in."Pull the trigger, that shit's liable to blow up in your face."

  "She's BAMF two times," Adetuyi said, pushing past a box, his HK ready to do some spraying."She's got to be doing something right."

  "Hell, I pull some crap like that, make my own gun, they'd've canned my ass by now. Know a guy on the job in Admin, says the only reason she's still around, the department's got a quota to—"

  Jenkinson: "Fiero."

  "Got something?"

  "Just thinking. If it is an invulnerable, our pieces aren't going to do us much good. Close quarters like this we might just end up plugging each other much as anything else."

  "And you want to go at this thing hands empty?"

  "Stun guns, man. It's the only thing that's gonna drop an invulnerable anyway."

  "Regs say—"

  "Screw the regs," Adetuyi cut in."The guys who wrote the book are kicking it back in their little offices. All I'm trying to do is make it another day in one piece. I'm with Jenkinson. Let's pull the SGs."

  Fiero thought. Fiero asked: "Martin, you with it?"

  "Whatever. Let's just get the show on the road."

  "All right. Stand down on your pieces," Fiero ordered."SGs."

  Adetuyi and Martin shouldered their HKs. Jenkinson slipped his Benelli into a back saddle. Fiero holstered his. 45. All four drew their stun guns, triggered them and got 850, 000 kV of high-amperage spark in response. Just enough to short out the CNS of the most ornery of otherwise indestructible metanormals.

  Seven floors done, two-thirds of one to go. And somewhere in that two-thirds was a hiding freak. Now the sweating started. Four cops snaking around boxes, crates. Looking, inching, looking again. A sound track of heavy, nervous breathing coming through their earpieces.

  Inching, looking, snaking, eyeing… eyeing. Sweating hands gripping their weapons.

  Fiero: "Anything?"

  "Nothing."

  "Got nothing."

  "Nothing."

  "The freak," Fiero said,"must've known he got spotted. Hit the road."

  Martin: "Must've packed good. Nothing to show anybody was ever hiding out here."

  Jenkinson stood."Waste of time."

  "Go to all this effort, at least ought to bag a couple pushers for t
he trouble," Martin said as he came from cover.

  The two remaining MTacs stood as well.

  Fiero ordered: "Keep your eyes open on the way down. Let's keep it sharp till we get out of here."

  As the four cops started for the door Adetuyi felt something warm and wet streak from his nose. He reached to touch his upper lip, feel the dampness. Instead he took his HK down off his shoulder.

  Fiero spotted him."Ad, shoulder up. We'll go down with the SGs."

  Adetuyi worked the rifle's slide.

  "Adetuyi, you hear me? Shoulder your weapon."

  The only response Fiero got was the muzzle of the HK swung in his direction.

  "Shit!"

  The word was lost under the rat-a-tat-tat of automatic fire and the bullets that hot-swarmed around Fiero as he threw himself for cover.

  Martin and Jenkinson stood unbelieving as they watched a fellow cop try best he could to splatter another. They stood that way until

  Adetuyi jabbed his HK in their direction. At that moment they became converted true believers. They did their believing as they did some moving. Mimicking Fiero, the pair rolled and tumbled, scrambled behind crates. Bullets chewed up the space where they'd been.

  Fiero tried to scream at Adetuyi through his throat mike."Ad… Ad, whataya doing?"

  All he got for an answer was more bullets coming his way.

  Martin perched himself up a bit."Got to take him out."

  Fiero: "Hold your fire."

  "I got an angle." A confetti of crate chips rained on him.

  "Hold your fire!"

  Adetuyi's clip clicked empty. Bullets stopped coming. Shells quit plinking on the wood floor. Quiet. Quiet except for the scream that came pouring out of Adetuyi's mouth. A scream followed by some frantic babble.

  "I–I can't… I can't control myself. Fiero! Fiero! I can't—"

  "Ad, take it easy."

  "Don't shoot me! Don't shoot! I can't control myself."

  Jenkinson went ballistic with confusion."What's happening?"

  Adetuyi's hands opened. The spent HK dropped and clank-clanked on the floor. Against itself Adetuyi's body turned. No fighting it. No way to fight it. Something else was in possession of him. His eyes spied what his body was turning toward: one of the boarded windows. A voice inside him, his own but not his own, told him what to do next. What he whispered to himself scared him deep.