by LC Champlin
“Come on, Judge, we gotta go!”
The camera whipped around to the cage across the aisle. Its door rattled. Ssssaaaahh!
“Come on!”
But instead of turning tail, Marvin pressed deeper into the garage of horrors. The camera flicked between enclosures as he crept down the aisle. Scratching, snarling, and scuffling emanated from each.
“Eight?” Bile burned in the back of Nathan’s throat. His sides ached. Another half a Percocet would feel beautiful right now. “Where—”
“Downstairs. Look.”
Fence gave way to four work benches. Two of the steel tables held . . . corpses. From cannibals. The body on the left sported a Y incision. Its neighbor fared no better, with its skull cap and half its brain removed, and the skin over its jaw and neck reflected like a high-schooler’s dissected frog.
The camera flicked upward, shaking. Nathan’s stomach tried to curl into the fetal position. Over each table dangled a winch’s hook and line. In non-cannibal times, the benches would hold engines and other parts. Ken improvised well.
Ken . . . Hati’s growl deep in Nathan’s mind melded with Judge’s growl in the video. Data Ken gathered on the cannibals during autopsies could help the effort to master the Dalits. And what of the eight in cages? Did Ken slate them for the dissecting table too, or did he have other, more creative plans? If his efforts were benevolent, why hadn’t he mentioned them?
The video ended as Marvin fled the scene.
Nathan handed the phone back, throat dry. “How did you get access to the basement?”
“I wanted to take Judge outside, because she was acting anxious. I didn’t want to waltz out the front door, so Mikhail gave me an access code to get us out by a different exit.”
“Mikhail.” Ken had given the engineer a different code to court his favor. Or Ken considered his former employee worthy of greater trust than the others. “Marvin.” Steady eye contact, hand on his shoulder. “Don’t mention this to the others, aside from Albin.”
“I—” The economist looked at his feet for a moment. “Of course. There’s enough going on as it is, huh.”
“Thank you for showing me this. Rest assured, Ken will give us an explanation, whether he wants to or not. That will come later, though.”
“It’s the Ne-no-kun.” Marvin blanched. “It has to be.”
“What?”
“The Root World, Place of Origins . . . Netherworld.” He whispered the last title.
“Netherworld?”
“Hell!” Marvin spread his arms, as if it would clarify the concept.
The gears in Nathan’s mind ground to a halt in resistance to the insanity that burgeoned around him. “You mean . . . from Faithful Dark?”
Chapter 44
Faithful Dark
White Rabbit - Egypt Central
Albin leaned back in his chair as he surveyed the group after their lamentable brainstorming session. “I suppose, Ms. Josephine, that is our least-dangerous option.”
Footsteps made him glance over his shoulder. Mr. Serebus, Bridges, and Judge approached. Excellent. Mr. Serebus enjoyed herding these squirrels.
“What did we arrive at?” Mr. Serebus’s question verged on a demand. He gave Kenichi-san a knowing smile. What transpired between Mr. Serebus and Bridges?
“Hand over the drives,” Albin began, “but remove the encryption keys. Alter certain documents that seem the most dangerous. It will provide enough time to verify that the hostages are who the kidnappers say they are.”
Behrmann added, “We could have Ken’s auto-targeting rifles, like the one that took out the cannibals when we arrived, cover the area. We don’t all have to go out, either. The kidnappers don’t know exactly how many of us there are.”
Mr. Serebus stroked his goatee and nodded.
Rolling his eyes, Kenichi-san leaned back to prop his feet on the table. “Just hand over the files and collection. We have copies. We just have to develop it before they do.”
“No,” Mr. Serebus responded without hesitation. “They likely already know how to use it. We, however, are starting at square one. They’ll achieve control over the cannibals before we can.”
Shukla opened his mouth to voice an emotional reaction, but Albin held up a hand. “Mr. Serebus, we require more information regarding the hostiles.”
“Agreed.” The dark man let out a breath as he eased into a chair at Albin’s left. “Ken, we need the drone again.”
“Sure.” Placid, the inventor balanced on the rear legs of his chair.
Shukla began pacing, his expression as foreboding as the goddess Kali’s. “That stupid drone can’t get through doors. We need to look around ourselves.”
“If I thought that was the best option,” Mr. Serebus began, “I would be the first to volunteer.”
With a huff, Shukla looked away.
“You’d volunteer, would you?” Kenichi-san snorted.
“Ken.” Mr. Serebus leaned forward, danger snapping in his tone. “Give us a moment. Now.”
Kenichi-san also leaned in. “Kicking me out of my own lab, Serebus?” Then he straightened. “I have better things to do than listen to you people fumble up a scheme to get yourselves killed. Cheers!” He waved as he sauntered into the hallway.
Behrmann drummed her fingers on the table. “Nathan, you have a plan, don’t you.” Excitement coursed through her words.
Mr. Serebus grew somber, his dark eyes glinting under his brows. “Badal, there’s no proof they have your sister.”
“But the kidnapper said her name!” At the last word, Shukla slammed his fist on the table.
“Go look through the security footage stretching back until Thursday, if the video is available. Look for any trace—”
“Of Hemali. Got it.” Then he was gone.
Looking from his employer to the door, then back again, Kuznetsov rose. “I’ll help him.”
With a sigh, Mr. Serebus pushed his thumbs into the bridge of his nose. “Sit down, Mikhail. I want to talk to you four. Badal’s not in a condition to listen.”
Suspicion in the tilt of her head, Behrmann studied him. “You think there’s more to this.”
“Marvin, you said this place looks like the Oshiro in Faithful Dark.”
“To the point that I was nervous about eating breakfast.” Bridges wore a grimace of revulsion as if he witnessed maggots writhing on a corpse.
“Explain.”
“In the game, if you choose to restore your character’s health by eating the food of Yomi-no-Kuni, the underworld, you can only leave the Oshiro if you break its hold on you.”
Mr. Serebus let out a breath verging on a snarl. “Did the room where your character ate resemble where we had breakfast?”
“That’s part of why I was nervous.”
“I see.” Mr. Serebus nodded as if the economist had laid out the conundrum’s solution in a flow sheet. “I believe Ken is attempting to recreate his game world.”
“Are you serious?” Behrmann remained skeptical.
“Marvin,” he continued as he turned to the economist, “what do the gods in Faithful Dark want from the player?”
Bridges scratched his neck, his gaze drifting to the pine ceiling. “Well, some send the player on quests that drop high-level loot. But others just want to get you killed.”
“Is there such a thing as a benevolent dark god?”
“The ones with the non-suicidal quests send you on missions that benefit them and hurt other gods.”
Lips pursed, Behrmann leaned back. “What exactly is the point of this game?”
“You choose what gods to work with. You play them against each other as you work through three phases: Damned, Dog, and Demon. The final level is becoming a god yourself. That’s the Divine or Dominator phase, depending how evil you want to go. It’s all about strategy and manipulation. In the next game, you start as a god.”
Mr. Serebus nodded. “Thank you. I’ve s
een the plot outline before, but I wanted a refresher.” Straightening his posture, he assumed the air of a judge at the bench. “I’m aware of how this sounds, but bear with me before you call Arkham.”
This elicited a laugh from Behrmann. “Aren’t the lunatics already running the asylum? Why are you suspicious of Ken, anyway?”
“Ken and I are business rivals; why should he be so welcoming? He isn’t doing all this out of the goodness of his heart.”
Idly, Kuznetsov ran the side of his thumbnail along the table edge. “Why is he giving us food, water, and shelter, you mean?”
“Because he’s a decent human being?” Behrmann, ever the devil's’ advocate.
Bridges rolled his eyes. “That’s rich! He lives in a re-creation of the underworld. That’s not sane.”
Frowning, the reporter shook her head. “Even if Ken is pretending to be one of these ‘dark gods,’” she twitched air quotation marks, “he may very well be benevolent, or at least benign.” Then she groaned, reaching up to massage her temples. “This all sounds insane. And you don’t have any proof that he’s messing with us.”
Albin folded his arms. “Nearly as insane as cannibals overrunning the city in the wake of terrorist attacks?”
Kuznetsov cleared his throat. “The gods still reward the player. Mr. Oshiro is giving us sanctuary. I would vote that with him, we are choosing the lesser evil.”
With a lifted chin, Albin added, “Better to deal with the devil we know than ones who will kill us if given the opportunity?”
“Then what’s our next move?” Behrmann looked about at the assembled.
“We have yet to negotiate—with the kidnappers or with Ken.” Mr. Serebus raised his hand as he delivered the next mandate: “Until we do, no one is setting foot outside the Oshiro.”
Chapter 45
A Little Birdie Told Me
Clubbed to Death - Rob Dougan
Nathan pushed to his feet. “I’m going to send the drone over to deliver our message about the files. Albin, join me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Everyone else, either review the intel we have on the situation, or continue working on Birk’s files. They’re equally valuable projects.”
He trudged to the transparent screens that hung at the lab’s rear wall. Glasses on. “Drone view.”
The craft’s camera panned over the rooftop and its solar array. Directional indicators floated on the screen. He brushed his fingers up. The view ascended; the arrow glowed green. Glancing about the screen directed the camera.
“Sir, do you believe Ms. Hemali is truly in their hands?”
Ah, the question worth more than one life. “I have to err on the side of caution and say perhaps, but it bothers me. It seems too convenient that she flew out here ahead of schedule, came to the same area of Silicon Valley Badal and Mikhail are in, and then was kidnapped by the very group we encountered in South San Francisco. Even if I believed in coincidences, this one would win the grand prize for the largest in its class.”
“Still, it is not impossible, merely improbable.”
Practice made perfect during the drone flight to the neighbor’s residence. A twitch made small adjustments, while a wave—too much! Spreading his fingers activated auto-balance.
“Advice?”
“If rescue is necessary, a second option is to corrupt the data used for the exchange.”
Down, down, the drone went until it hovered at the doorway.
“I could also plant a time-bomb virus. Using Ken’s snipers is wise, assuming he’ll deign to help.”
“The last resort is handing over the files and collection.” No look necessary to tell Albin frowned.
“If they use the files to achieve control of the cannibals—”
“Then we may be guilty of trading the lives of millions for the life of one.” Did doubt underlie his words, or was it acceptance?
No words seemed adequate, so a sigh sufficed.
The drone approached Campbell’s entryway. Easy now . . . The rotor guard bumped the doorframe. Once inside, he didn’t need skill. The man with the mouth led, Ken said.
“Audio transmit.” A microphone icon pulsed to the right. One, two, three—The bastards would regret crossing him. “This is Nathan Serebus. Do you copy?”
“The little birdie is back. I told you, Serebus, hand over the objects of interest ASAP and you’ll get your people back. There’s no reason to fuck around.”
“If I don’t see the hostages ASAP, you won’t see your ‘objects of interest.’”
“You’re going to keep beating that dead horse?” Sarge laughed.
“I’ll keep a camera on your driveway if you decide to cowboy up on that dead horse and make a deal.” A swipe killed the mic.
The drone eased out into the glare of the central-Cali morning. Desert scrub and hills composed the view. “Take me home.” It worked with Google Maps . . . and it worked with Oshiro drones. The craft ascended as it cruised toward the compound.
Movement at the compound’s base—A cannibal? “Zoom in.” No, not a monster but an engineer.
“Shukla,” Albin hissed.
“That idiot, playing hero!”
“In this case, he plays the fool.”
Badal had a shotgun in hand. Marvin’s? Glancing both ways, he scuttled to the nearest hedge. He could engineer software programs better than even Nathan at times, but fighting an armed squad who held hostages? Not in the skill set, video games aside.
“Audio transmit.” Lower, closer to the fugitive . . . “Badal, stop.”
He did—and shook his head at the drone.
“Don’t make me come out there.” Nathan stalked toward the lab exit. “If you don’t turn around now, they will kill you and Hemali.”
“Sir.” Albin came to his side. “It’s not advisable for you to go—”
Transmit off. “He’s my engineer, Albin.” Advisable or not, rounding up pack members fell to the alpha. Now, though, Badal felt less like a fellow wolf and more like a sheep in need of a border collie.
The maverick onscreen shoved through the hedge gate, then darted across open ground, bounding over flower beds and through Zen gardens.
“Call Ken,” Nathan ordered the system.
Calling . . .
“So now I’m good enou—”
“Ken, check the northern cameras and drone two.”
Grumbling followed as Nathan and Albin rounded the corner into a red hall. Their dots in the head-up display moved through the building diagram, en route to the exit.
“What the hell is he doing?”
“Tase him.” Words he never thought he’d say regarding Badal.
“Too late. You’ll have to catch him yourself.”
“You’re ever helpful.” Nathan grabbed the mic icon in mid air and flung it aside.
“Sir, he has left the property.”
Pressure on Nathan’s shoulder caused a reflexive shrug. “If I don’t catch him now—”
“Stop. Allow me to retrieve my rifle. Then I will fetch him.” The ice in Albin’s blue eyes would tolerate no crossing. “If you go, I will have to retrieve both of you.” His smirk silenced any retort.
“Go.”
“Mr. Conrad! Mr. Serebus.” Mikhail trotted around the corner, flushed beneath his gray.
Albin brushed by him.
“Where are you—”
“Shukla.”
Mikhail spun to face Nathan. “I was afraid he would do that.” Grimacing, he punched a fist into his palm. “I’ll get him. He’ll listen to me,” Mikhail decided as he marched toward the exit.
“No.”
“But I can help.”
“You already are.”
Mikhail took another step toward the door, then stopped, head hanging.
Nathan put a hand on the man’s upper back and escorted him toward the lab. “You’re an invaluable member of the team—when you behave.”
As they reached the lab, Albin appeared around the corner. He wore the plate carrier and bore his AR.
“Godspeed.” Nathan let out a breath.
Chapter 46
Runner
I Won't Let Go - Brothers Bright
In the lab, Nathan released his engineer and halted before the screens, where he spread the drone and security camera footage over all three displays.
A tap on the drone feed brought it into focus. It provided a view of Badal, who worked his way from bush to bush toward the neighbor’s house.
Another screen showed Albin trotting in the engineer’s general direction. The blond reached the hedge at the edge of Ken’s property.
“I can’t watch,” Mikhail murmured, turning away.
“Then go help Marvin and Jo.”
Nathan growled as he watched. His people. His responsibility. He should lead the scouting mission.
On screen, Badal veered northeast, toward the rear of the neighbor’s McMansion.
Key the HT—“Albin, he’s heading for the back of the house.”
Below, the attorney adjusted course.
The inside of Nathan’s skin itched. Cold under his hand; the XD-S .45’s grip bit into his palm. Hati’s gold eyes burned with the morning sun. Like Hati’s brother Skoll, Albin would keep the night on schedule.
The lab doors opened, admitting Ken. He sauntered over to join Nathan. “Albin will catch Badal in no time.” His confidence buffed his smile to a high gloss. Damned raccoon.
“Don’t you have alarms in this grand fortress of yours?”
“My security is first rate.”
“Then you should have noticed Badal’s exit.”
On the display, Albin closed the distance to Badal. A figure moved at the screen’s lower edge. More camera views. A gray-haired man carrying an AR sprinted away from the Oshiro. “Mikhail!”
“Are you serious?” Josephine yelped, almost overturning her chair across the lab as she shot to her feet. “Now we have three people out there?”