Orphan of Mythcorp

by R. S. Darling

  “Um,” I said, breaking the silence, “who turned the lights on?”

  “That’s a good point,” Faustus said. “Another good point I just want to make at this juncture, is that you, sir,” pointing at me “were WAY off. Those gangers didn’t even hesitate in shooting Izzy.”

  “Well excuse me for not knowing those zipperdicks had long range lenses. Frankly I didn’t really believe they’d still be up there, especially right at the tail end of a brimstorm. They really don’t want anyone opening this place, do they?”

  Studying me, Faustus said, “It was a lie, wasn’t it? You didn’t bring your little girlfriend along as some kind of safeguard. You brought her because you’re as flaky as Knox and you didn’t know how else to ask Izzy out.”

  “What? No. It’s not like she’s my girlfriend,” I said without thinking.

  “Oh?” Izzy said, hobbling into a tent of light in front of me. “What, I’m not good enough for you? Too short too chubby too strong a personality? Well, which one? Or is it all of the above?”

  I kneeled so we’d be the same height.

  “Oh don’t even,” Izzy turned her back on me.

  I sneered at the gingersnap while Izzy spoke up, her back still to me. “About the lights. Isn’t it obvious? You said Ash was coming here. He can Mesmerize people. Maybe he—”

  “Yeah,” Faustus interjected. “Maybe he pulled the old Jedi Mind Trick on the guys down at the power station. Made them turn the juice back on.” He clapped once and then seemed to deflate. “Well, one mystery solved. Now all we need to do is find your old man the Knoxicle.”

  “So where is this cryonics lab?” I asked him. Looking around, I noticed that Malthus was gone, having either melded into the shadows or run off somewhere.

  Faustus shrugged. “No idea.”

  I walked up to him through the creepy light cast by one of the dusty fluorescents flickering high overhead. “What do you mean ‘no idea’? You’ve been here before. Twice.”

  He was hovering over Kana again, checking her pulse and stuff. “Yeah, we’ve been here, but at the time we were being shot at and chased and we didn’t get a chance to stop and take a tour of the place—especially since we were fugitives back then. It was like in District Nine when Wikus and Christopher Johnson have to get back inside MNU to—”

  “He doesn’t not know what you’re talking about, Red,” Kana said in a weak voice.

  “Tiny! You’re awake.” He hugged her on the floor before helping her up. “You don’t waste any time recovering, do you? This is great.” An awkward pause. “So, now what?”

  Meanwhile I glanced back at Izzy and caught her looking over at us. She quickly averted her gaze. I stood there next to Kana and Faustus, realizing for the first time that this was my show and that I had no clue how to find my father in this huge building. I’d spent so much time dreaming about entering Mythcorp but not even a few seconds on how I’d manage to do the very thing that was the whole point of entering.

  First things first: I wandered over to the emergency door and tried to lift it. “Well, Gabriel’s gang isn’t coming through this bad boy. We should be safe—from them, anyway.”

  “Yeah, until it’s time to leave and we open it and find a dozen dart guns trained on our faces,” said Izzy. I hated this new sarcastic tone she’d adopted. What had I done to deserve it? “It’s clear you three are not the brains of this idiotic operation. So I guess I’ll have to be.” She walked past me, shuffling close enough to stomp my foot with one of her crutches. “Every public building has a directory on its main floor, usually near the atrium. So I say we go there, find the directory, and follow its directions to the cryonics lab.” Izzy turned on me. “I don’t suppose you researched how to wake the cryogenically frozen?”

  “Um,” was my offer.

  “I figured as much.” Her beautiful wine-colored hair swung around to accentuate her distaste with me. “We’ll have to either find some instructions—maybe they have a manual or maybe the computer in the lab will tell us—or we’ll have to risk taking Knox outside and transporting him to a hospital.”

  “That’s not an option, actually,” said Kana. “Knox was the most wanted man in Philicity for eighteen months before they finally froze him. His face was all over the news and on Wanted posters all across the city. The only reason he’s still here is because no one—besides Agent Cotes—knew what happened to him after Alexander was killed by the Time Traveler the day of the Purge.”

  “Yeah,” Faustus agreed. “Even we didn’t know where he was for a few years.”

  Kana continued: “If we take him out of here, doctors might still recognize him and then they’ll call the police who will contact the FBI and then it’ll be raining feds and that’ll just be a big ole mess.” Kana punctuated her statement by rubbing her back where the darts had struck.

  I sighed. “So we thaw him out here.”

  “Which ought to be a blast,” Faustus mumbled.

  Izzy marched away from us, towards the wall furthest from the bay doors. “One problem at a time. Let’s just get to the atrium and locate the cryonics lab.”

  I rushed towards her, relying heavily on the cane (the nausea was getting progressively worse). “Hey listen, I’m sorry if I said something wrong. I don’t have much of a filter on my mouth, you know. Okay? Izzy?”

  She twisted around and bore her peepers up into mine. If she wasn’t so short, it might have been intimidating. “You don’t talk to me the rest of the time we’re here. Got it, mister?”

  It wasn’t really a question.

  “Ooh,” Faustus whispered behind me. “Someone’s in the doghouse.” He had his arm around Kana while she inspected one of her dirks for damage.

  The warehouse reminded me of what I’d always imagined the Mines of Moria would look like. Shadows lay dark over half the space, like spilled black paint, and every few feet we had to stop to feel our way around a pallet loaded with old goodies.

  “Hey, this one’s got Hostess Twinkies!” Faustus bleated, startling us. He whipped out his switchblade and started slicing through the plastic wrap. “They haven’t made these in ages.”

  “Those were delivered fifteen years ago,” Izzy said. “They’re probably nothing but sugary goo by now.”

  “I hope so.”

  The girls did a lot of rolling of the eyes while Faustus dug out a box of Twinkies. He tore it open, practically drooling. “Ha! You see? These are the sealed plastic wrap kind. No air can get in.” Observing Kana’s gestures to put it down, he added, “Relax, they’re fine.” Faustus pulled the plastic apart at the seams and stuffed half a Twinkie into his mouth.

  I cringed as he chomped on the old yellow cake. He made a bunch of nasty groaning and moaning noises before swallowing. Every disgusting sound was amplified and creepified by the echoes here in this modern-day Moria. Blessed silence as we waited to see if he would die. Instead of dropping dead, Faustus stuffed the rest of the Twinkie into his mouth and motioned for us to continue on our way. “Oh God, that’s good!”

  Izzy turned first and I followed her to the door. Behind me Kana said to the gingersnap, “Go ahead and keep on stuffing your face, Red, but if you start puking your guts up all over the place, don’t come crying to me.”

  Another minute or so passed in silence; and then we reached a metal door sporting a faint green light at its top. Izzy tried the handle. “It’s locked.”

  “Of course it is,” I whined. “I’ll bet my cane every door we come to in this tomb is going to be locked.”

  “Thanks,” Izzy said, “that’s helpful. Anyone got any ideas other than to piss and moan?”

  Kana marched straight up to the door, gently prodded Izzy out of harm’s way, and then gripped the doorknob. She twisted. Grinding and crunching. Tumblers and metal bolts being ground to uselessness. Kana finished her little knob-abuse show and shoved on the door. It opened with a squeak.

  She smirked at Izzy and stepped out into a bright white hallway.

  It was b
rilliant calm for about three ticks before all hell battered into us. At first I thought someone had switched on a war epic with the sound blaring. But that hope quickly faded when I noticed dozens of divots materializing in the plaster wall around us, the white canvas turning from a flat wall into a colander. Within ten ticks the place took on the look of a war torn city.

  In between flashes I saw that Kana had both dirks out. She was walking towards the source of the gunfire, whizzing her blades around with such whiz-bang gusto that they were blurs, great circles of impenetrable metal. I’d never seen anything like it.

  Behind us booming footsteps sounded. Out of the darkness Malthus charged, barreling right through us as we rushed to make a path. He unleashed a kooky guttural sound that I could feel in my chest; it was almost like the rumbling of a rocket.

  ‘—ing to stand . . . like . . . brain dead . . . on?’ Castor screamed at me.

  I could barely understand him, and when I looked around all I found was a billowing cloud of faint light. The last of the doojee was wearing off.

  Izzy stood frozen against the wall beside the open doorway. I rushed up to her. “You okay?” She didn’t respond. I grabbed her shoulders and shook. “Izzy! Are you okay?” I could barely hear my own voice over the clamor of gunfire and ricocheting bullets.

  “Yes,” Izzy answered at last. “I’m okay. Help them.”

  “How?” I said, raising my cane as I shrugged. And then it dawned on me: my cane. Aha. I peaked around the doorway just as Faustus was rushing through it, yelling after Kana.

  Every few ticks a blurb of light flashed from the other end of the hallway and then a blink later a bullet would ping off of one of Kana’s dirks or plunk Malthus’ hide and drop to the floor. I was way out of my depth here. But there was a lovely girl who wanted me to man up. So how could I not?

  Then again, there was gunfire and shouting and it was generally a most dire situation. A pisser, as Galahad would say. I hesitated, twiddled the crow-head around in my hands.

  How could anyone expect me to go out into that, especially while suffering comedown?

  ‘What are you doing?’ Castor demanded, now a semi-transparent spook. ‘Get your ass out there and help your friends!’

  The jittering had returned with a vengeance. I looked over at Izzy. She was cowering. Is that what I looked like? At least she had a reason to be cowering; me, on the other hand? No reason, only lame excuses. I had a weapon, after all. I summoned all my (very limited amount of) courage, dug deep for a set of stones and . . . Backed up against the wall.

  “I can’t do this. Castor, take over.”

  The spook morphed into distinction. ‘With pleasure.’ He grinned and then merged with me. Ice seemed to surge through my blood, and vision grew dim. But I was still aware of everything.

  Castor/I plunged into the melee, cane raised, pumper pumping whiz-bang like.

  Everything started moving in fast forward: Bullets whizzing by my ears, puffs of smoke puffing into existence and being snuffed out slam-bang; Kana leaping around, dirks blazing; Malthus charging. A part of me was pissed off. Whoever was shooting was keeping me from meeting my father.

  Chapter 34

  Sanson

  “The cryonics lab is on the twelfth floor,” Ash said, already sauntering across the atrium over to the bank of elevators.

  “How do you know?” Officer Graham asked. He seemed remarkably in control of his mouth, considering he was under the spell of a Mesmer. Apparently some people are more resilient. He watched as Ash removed the helmet from his head and dropped it on the floor.

  The little yahoo stared up at Officer Graham. “I just do. NO MORE QUESTIONS. Let’s go.”

  We’d all crossed the floor, the flip-flop sounds of our footsteps echoing up to the ceiling high overhead, when an explosion from the back of the building sent one of the numerous marble busts tumbling down. We jumped and Nimrod whipped an automatic out from the depths of his cloak, taking aim at the jagged pieces littering the floor.

  Ash sighed. “That would be Morgan.”

  “And it sounds like the zipperdick’s brought help,” Agravaine added. “We better keep our peepers open. This could turn into one nasty obamafest.” He seemed to relish this idea.

  “Agreed,” Ash pushed the UP button on the wall beside the elevator. “Nimrod?”

  The Mighty Hunter jogged over to the entrance desk and switched on a batch of security screens. We all sort of gravitated towards him, even Ash—once he saw that the elevator wasn’t working.

  Some of the screens were still flickering on when I reached them, while others were already snow-free. Clearly not of today’s crystal clarity line. These were all pre Liquid Vision screens, back when TV’s were made with circuit boards and wires.

  I could hear Nimrod’s augmetic eye turning as it scanned the screens. “There,” Agravaine declared, pointing at one in the lower left hand corner.

  Nimrod shoved the chubby Morai out of the way. You could almost see a little drool slithering out of his lips as he curled them into an ugly sneer. “Malthus.” He looked up and pummeled me aside, charging across the floor and plunging into the hallway situated between the dual curling staircases. In seconds he was out of sight, though you could still hear the echoes of his clomping foot-stomps.

  So now Ash was the most dangerous yahoo in the group.

  “He’ll keep them out of our hair,” he said. “Come on. Crowley’s waiting.” He headed for the stairs, adding, “It seems the elevators are frozen. So we have a bit of a climb ahead of us.”

  I grabbed his shoulder. Agravaine and Lamorak each grabbed one of mine. “Listen, we don’t need Officer Graham anymore. Why don’t you let him go?” I looked back at the Mesmerized cop who was staring solemnly at his dead partner lying face down on the floor near the doors and the stunned Montaigne’s.

  Ash followed my eyes, shrugged out of my grip. “No. We may need a hostage.”

  “What!” I gasped. A single beep from my thermal coincided with my exclamation. My temp was dropping. “Hostages now? What are you planning on doing, robbing the city?”

  “What I am planning on,” he said through a clenched jaw, “is the same thing I’ve been planning since we met. I’m going to wake the sorcerer, have him lift your curse, and then together we are going to convince the good people of Philicity to vote to repeal the Extra Human Ability Restriction Act. Then we’ll finally be free to work on reopening Mythcorp.”

  “Why?” another beep from my thermal. I needed to calm down.

  I glanced behind us to the doors where Lexi and her father stood watching us.

  “Why?” Ash bore into my eyes with his own white creep shows. “Because we shouldn’t have to hide what we are. Because our parents were mutilated and murdered just for being different. Because America needs our gifts. Forty-three nuclear-armed countries want to blow us off the map and there is no one but us Morai who might convince them not to.”

  He turned and headed up the stairs. “Officer Graham, you’re up front with me.” He didn’t even wait to see if the cop would follow him meekly up the steps, which the cop did.

  Lamorak and Agravaine shoved me up after them.

  That was when I decided to flee this little group of insane yahoos—just as soon as my curse was lifted, of course.

  When we reached the third floor landing a sudden clamor of gunshots erupted from below. Nimrod had found his prey. Were people dying? Was I culpable? “This is crazy,” I said. “We have to stop him. Killing people won’t convince anyone to listen to you.”

  “Calm down.” Ash resumed the upward trek.

  The sun had set by then and so the only light was that coming from the green EXIT signs hanging over the emergency doors on every level. If that didn’t make our trek sinister enough, the echoes in the large stairwell did, repeating our footsteps and Agravaines’ incessant whispers like ghosts with speech deficiencies. And I could’ve done without the constant prodding by my Morai guards.

  At the ninth fl
oor landing I stopped, nearly tripping up Lamorak and Agravaine. “Let’s go, zombie,” the beefy one said. “No breaks.”

  “Leave him alone,” Ash ordered. After whispering something into Officer Grahams’ ear, he stepped down to us. He lifted my arm from the railing and checked my body temp. “Fifty-eight degrees. That’s low, right?”

  I nodded. “My hands . . . and feet are stiff. I can’t . . . inject myself.”

  Ash removed the case from my backpack. As he loaded a vial into the hypogun, he said, “You should’ve told me. I would’ve stopped.” He expertly injected the nanites, picking my neck as the injection point.

  “I didn’t want to . . . interrupt your quest for fame.” Nice, I could be sarcastic even while dying.

  Ash sighed and shook his head. I couldn’t help but notice that the Morai were not sweating. I don’t sweat because my sweat glands don’t work and my body doesn’t produce sweat. But these guys didn’t even have that excuse. They were simply immune to the nuisance.

  “You guys go on ahead,” Ash said to the boys. “I’ll wait with Charlie. When he recovers we’ll catch up and meet you on twelve.”

  “You sure?” Agravaine asked.

  Ash nodded. Within thirty seconds it was just me and him leaning against the railing. He laughed—an unfortunate sound that reminded me of crows cawing. “You know, this might be the last time you need nanites. A few hours from now, maybe a smidge bit longer, the sorcerer will be awake and busy lifting your curse. Have you thought about what it’ll be like?”

  “Only every hour of every day for the last four years,” I answered. But then I had to ask, “What happens if the sorcerer, er, Crowley, doesn’t want to lift my curse, or can’t lift it?”

  “The first won’t matter,” Ash said, getting up. “I’ll make sure of that. As for the second, from what Nimrod has told me, there’s very little Crowley can’t do. I mean, he was the one that made Mythcorp possible.” He helped me to my feet and we resumed our annoying climb up the stairs. My temp was back up to 61 degrees, about the same as the ambient air temperature. “Did you know Crowley even created doorways to other worlds?” Ash said, happily indulging in his subject.