by ST Branton
“Well, I tried to report her missing, but the police wouldn’t hear it.” My hand froze. “Told me to call back in twenty-four hours, but when I called again, nobody answered. I don’t know what the heck is going on over there, but I don’t like it.”
“Thanks for calling.” This host was a youngish sounding guy with a reedy voice that sort of grated on my eardrums. “We’ll add your report to the file. Remember folks, this file is going straight into the hands of law enforcement whether they like it or not, so be sure to call in and get your story told. All these shady shenanigans have to stop now, but the government won’t fess up unless we hold them accountable.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Our next caller is on the line. Go ahead, sir.”
“Yeah, I had a cousin living up near Mormouth,” the caller said in a gruff baritone. I sat up straighter at the mention of the town. “Had a farm up there, a place for his family, all that stuff. He seemed really happy, you know? We used to hear from him every couple of weeks or so. Well, he hasn’t called or stopped by in over a month now.”
“Interesting,” the host said. “I assume you’ve tried to make contact from your end?”
“Yep. Not a peep. My aunt is starting to get pretty worried, but we can’t get ahold of anyone official, neither. If they don’t just tell us to call back, they tell us to buzz off, or they don’t answer at all. I’d go up there myself, but I don’t have time, what with work and all.”
“You’ve filed a missing person’s report?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think they took us seriously. Feels like no one cares about anyone up there, you know? Like they’re all hillbillies and not worth the time to look for.” The caller sighed. “But Harvey’s my cousin, and he’s got a family. We just want him to be found.”
I shut off the radio, unexpectedly assaulted by a wave of sadness. “Shit.”
Perhaps this situation is more dire than we expected, Marcus said carefully. You must watch your step from here, Victoria.
I nodded, searching for words and finding none, except for: “He’s got a family and they want him to be found.” The words were a punch to my gut. Didn’t they parallel my own quest for vengeance, albeit in a much softer, more plaintive way?
If I hadn’t been completely invested in this specific mission before, I sure as hell was now.
Night fell quickly during the second half of the drive, and soon we were wading through inky blackness, the overhead lights few and far between. “Just stick to the highway and you should be fine,” I whispered to myself, echoing the bartender’s advice.
But the highway was starting to look less and less like a highway. It had shrunk from six lanes down to four narrow ones that fed off into winding, snakelike exits. I glanced compulsively into my mirrors every few seconds for reasons I couldn’t explain. The sensation of somebody following me had intensified ever since it got dark.
No flashing lights. No sirens. Only a few other sets of headlights.
But I could swear I wasn’t alone.
The GPS told me to take the next exit, so I did, banking the wheel hard to the right to follow the deep curve of the road. We wound around through total darkness, the shapes of burly trees rising at the roadside. A stop sign finally materialized from the nothingness, blazing in my headlights. I obeyed it and then eased the Audi forward. The road kept getting narrower.
Another shape appeared up ahead. Orange reflectors leapt from the shadows like eyes so abruptly that I nearly slammed on my brakes. I could just make out a police insignia painted on the doors of the two cars parked nose to nose in the road, effectively blocking all passage.
“What the hell?” A roadblock was the last thing I was expecting up here. The officer who stepped into my lights came around to the window, which I rolled down. “Hi, officer. Can I get through?”
“Afraid not, ma’am. The road’s in terrible condition up ahead. We had flash floods last week from the storms, so a lot of these roads are impassable at the moment. You’ll have to turn around.” Without allowing me the chance to respond, he backed away from the car, waving me away.
“Okay.” I put the shift into reverse and crept backward until I reached a spot where I could safely turn around. There had been a few forks earlier on that I had studiously ignored, but it was evidently time to try something else. The first one I picked took me to a dead end with a falling-down old barn at the end of a barren lot. A good place to get murdered.
The second try ended in a rancid pond, scummed over with brown algae. The smell of decay seeped through my windows. I went back into reverse and attempted another route. This next one stumped even the GPS, and I didn’t have enough confidence in my navigation skills to keep driving into what was apparently oblivion.
I put the Audi in park and leaned back in the seat, thinking. There was only one viable option, unless I wanted to waste tons of time for potentially no reward. It was sort of a shame; I’d only had this car for a few hours, and it was an undeniably sweet ride. But I also knew the douche at the bar would report it stolen for sure once he sobered up or awoke from his coma. Leaving it behind was probably for the best.
Slipping out of the driver’s side door into the cool embrace of the northwestern night, I stretched out my limbs and took a deep, cleansing breath. “Guess I’m walking from here.”
With backpack in tow, I began my trek. It took longer than I wanted to make my way back to the barricade. I’ve always been better at navigating via landmarks, and this dark-ass forest didn’t have any except trees and more trees that all looked the same to me. Mostly I relied on retracing my steps as best I could, and eventually, I caught sight of the lights on the cop cars flashing up ahead.
“Oh, thank God.” I paused to collect my thoughts, psych myself up for the next part of the plan. Which was… what? Two cops stood between me and my destination.
The guy who’d sent me away before was sitting in his car now, his face lit from below by the glow of a screen. It certainly would not be a problem sneaking passed officer friendly. Whatever was on his screen held him captivated, at least for the moment.
News feed? Game app? Porn? It didn’t matter. The dude had hours of entertainment in the palm of his hand, and all he knew was that the ranking officer had put him on a boring, crap detail.
I eyed a path passed the officers’ cars, but then something pulled my attention—the static-filled squawk of the handheld radio sitting on the dash of the cruiser.
“Now that would be handy,” I whispered.
I would say you are right, Victoria, Marcus answered, even though I was just talking to myself. The marvels of your societies technology in the hands of your provincial guards must do wonders for the crime rates.
“Wish that were the case, Marcus.”
All I needed was some sort of distraction, and I could snatch the radio and get the hell into the area these guys were guarding out here in the middle of nowhere. My hand mindlessly wandered to my bag, fingers locked around the sword from Carcerum.
I hope you’re not thinking what I think you are thinking.
My friend’s proper prose made me smile every time without fail. “Don’t worry Marcus. As long as my aim is good, this will go off without a hitch.”
I stood up from my cover and drew the Gladius Solis, its golden blade responding immediately. Knowing my diversion would need to be quick, I picked the outline of a thick tree out beyond the police cars.
A golden streak of light should be distracting enough.
Closing one eye, I took aim again, before launching the sword from over my head with a two-handed swing, Conan the Barbarian style.
“Ah, shit,” was all I could say as the sword found its course, right into the rear quarter panel of an empty cruiser. “Not a freaking word, Centurion.”
Marcus chuckled. You are not much of a shot, but that, Victoria, should indeed do well to distract the men in uniform.
Officer Friendly’s chin shot up, and he was out of his car in a heartbeat. As he ran toward my sword
, I made a beeline for his radio. If there was any question as to whether or not my ploy would work, the cruiser, its ass pierced by the weapon of the gods, exploded into flames. The officers hit the dirt road, heads covered in their hands.
“Damn,” I said, as I grabbed the radio off the dashboard and spun across the hood and toward the safety of the trees. As I ran, I turned toward the explosion and called on the sword. A streak of light shot from the flaming vehicles, the hilt landing in my hand.
“Huh, not hot at all.”
Ah! The Gladius is impervious to heat. Just one of its many celestial qualities.
“Good to know.” I tucked the hilt into my bag and took off into the damp, dark woods.
The night started with a bang, but I had a feeling it was only going to get more explosive from here. Get it?
CHAPTER FOUR
As the sounds of shouting men and an exploding vehicle faded into the distance, I refocused on the task at hand. Part one of the infiltration behind me, I was forced to acknowledge that the real difficult stuff was about to start. The napkin map was better than finding my way by the stars, but not by much. “Let’s see.” I positioned my phone’s flashlight above the red ink lines, squinting at them as though they meant something. “I think we’re going the right way.”
I would say that the only way is probably the right one, yes.
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up. You’re only saying that because you’re not the one doing the walking. My feet are killing me.
Ah, to have feet again…
“Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t complain about having a body so much.”
It’s fine. I lived many lifetimes in service to Kronin. I am blessed beyond what most men are given. And now I get to continue my service as your aid. Albeit while trapped in here.
“What’s it like in there anyways?”
He took a second to answer, but when he did his voice was soft.
Strange. I see the world through your eyes, feel it through your skin. And yet I am still me. I still process what your senses give me through my own knowledge and experience. It’s hard to explain beyond that.
“And what about when we’re not connected?”
You mean when you’ve shoved me in your pocket.
“Something like that. Is it...dark?” I pictured him trapped in a dark cell.
I can no longer see, but it is far from dark. Whatever power has sustained me here, it also keeps me content. My world is golden and warm. And without the world to distract me I have plenty of time to reflect on my life, and the trials to come. Body or no, I am not without strength.
“That sounds nice,” I said, and I meant it.
It is. Now if I’m not mistaken, I believe you should veer left up here.
I stared at the path ahead of me and noticed a small branch to the side. “Are you sure?”
Orienteering is a skill required of a soldier. I believe you would call it, a ‘useful skill?’
I smiled broadly. “Yeah, yeah, OK. You’re not good for nothing. I think I’ll keep you around a little longer.
For all my backtalk, I was truly glad he knew what he was doing. Nature and I were hardly on friendly terms—I’d be the first to admit that. Turns out, a concrete jungle and a real jungle have almost nothing in common. And by jungle, I meant forest obviously.
Fortunately for me and my incredibly subpar navigation ability, the path was short, well-worn, and led us essentially right where we needed to go. The first sign that we were approaching our destination was the eight-foot temporary fencing encircling everything. Their dense mesh completely negated any view in, and I could see coils of razor wire along the top.
“What the hell have they got in there?” I mused, half to myself. “Dinosaurs?”
Whatever it is, it is likely not good. Proceed with caution.
“Noted.” Step one: stay far, far away from that razor wire. The last thing I needed was to be sneaking around this place with cut up hands, dripping blood everywhere. Instead, I monkeyed my way up the nearest tree, to which a length of fence was anchored with rope and chains. The branches, made of the darkest wood I’d ever seen, were long and gnarled like witch’s fingers. I tested each as I climbed, paranoid that one would break and send me crashing down. That was not the kind of entrance I wanted to make.
At long last, my head cleared the fence, and I was able to see unobstructed into the town beyond. From my relatively lofty perch, it reminded me of an old colonial village: a few clusters of stout little houses scattered among stone-paved roads. It had clearly expanded at some point in the past—the homes on the outskirts were newer, more modern in design—but now it was all under one hell of a lockdown for reasons that weren’t readily apparent.
Maybe because I couldn’t see shit. A soupy gray fog was rolling in thick over the entire scene, so fast I watched my visibility being reduced to almost nothing. Only the peaks of the roofs stood out, and then, only the chimney stacks. If I wanted a better look, I’d have to get my ass down to the ground.
“Wish me luck,” I muttered. “How long will it take my bones to heal after I screw this up and shatter them?”
Even after drinking the nectar of Carcerum, too long. So please refrain from breaking anything.
“Easy for you to say.” Ten feet hadn’t looked that high from the bottom up, but I felt a little pinch of vertigo as I assessed the possible ways over and down. The razor wire extended too far across the trunk of my tree for me to simply drop, which meant I needed to literally go out on a limb. So, I picked the strongest-looking bough in my immediate vicinity and started to shimmy gingerly out to the end, far enough that I wouldn’t be snagged on any barbs. Why the balls did they need fencing and razor wire? It was like I was breaking into some damn prison.
At the end of the branch, I swung down on my arms, flinching as the wood creaked ominously under my fingers. Fearing that it would break if I lingered, I launched myself forward on my own momentum, tucking and rolling as my shoulder hit the ground.
The fog condensed on my face and hair, streaming in rivulets over my cheeks. I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, blinking away the droplets, and took in the town. The buildings, shrouded in gray, were much more foreboding up close, primarily because it became apparent that they were all empty.
Not a great sign.
Smashed glass littered the ground, and the charred smell of an old fire hung on the air. But other than my own heavy breathing, the town was silent.
Some of the doors stood wide open, affording me a glimpse into the abandoned interior. A sturdy wooden table stood alone in what looked like a kitchen, still stocked with plates and silverware. The serving plate was piled with food. I frowned. That unsettled feeling from before crept back into my gut, as if I was in the process of witnessing something I wasn’t supposed to see.
“I don’t like this,” I said under my breath. It didn’t seem so stupid to have flown all the way out here anymore, but I wasn’t sure I was going to like the answers we found. “Where is everyone?”
That depends on who you mean by everyone.
The distinctive crunch of footsteps reached my ears through the wall of fog, and I tensed up, adrenaline automatically plunging through my veins. The white beams of high-intensity flashlights shot through the cloud. Voices came after.
“Can’t believe we’re the ones who got stuck in the freak show. They couldn’t find anyone else to do it?”
“Don’t complain, you prick. This is better than pushing papers at HQ, and you know it. And perimeter duty is as easy as it gets. All we have to do is walk around in circles all night and tell them we didn’t see squat in the morning. They’ll eat that shit up.”
“Yeah? How do you know?”
“Because nobody knows what the hell went down here, Jacobs. We could tell them we saw the ghost of Jimmy Hoffa and they’d probably believe us. My guess is that whatever did this to these people is long gone. We’re in no danger. I’d bet my left nut on it.”
I pursed my
lips. Charming. The black bark of the tree trunk I’d hid behind was uncomfortably damp on my face, but I didn’t dare move. The pair was four feet away. If not for the fog, they would have seen me for sure. They drew level with my hiding spot, and I saw a shade of their faces. Black coats, black pants, and as they passed, FBI emblazoned across the back of the shoulders in bright yellow.
Deacon’s boys.
God, I hoped he didn’t show up here. I kind of left a mess behind in Palo Alto, and we hadn’t spoken since I asked him to help me make that mess. I had no real idea what he thought about me, and now wasn’t exactly the right time to find out.
Victoria. Center your mind. Deacon is not here, so do not let him rule your thoughts.
“I thought you weren’t a mind reader,” I grumbled. But he had a point. I had been easily distracted and easily frustrated as of late, and now was not the time for any of that. I took a deep breath, shook off everything except the moment in front of me. “All right. I’m here.”
The agents had moved on down their path by then, so I crept out into the open, beelining for the next open house. It might have been easier to backtrack to the one I’d passed earlier, but retracing my steps felt like a huge risk. With my hearing attuned, I could tell the area was crawling with Feds. A crucial detail that I somehow missed on my descent behind the fence.
I crouched beneath the window of the old clapboard house, its chipped siding beaded with fog. The next pair of agents sauntered by, but I no longer listened to their chatter. As soon as the flashlight beams disappeared into the gloom, I slipped around the corner and through the front door.
The floorboard in front of the threshold creaked mightily. I froze, one foot still in the air. All the hair on my body stood on end. I felt like a human lightning rod, waiting to be struck down by a god or a gun. Two breaths cycled in and out of my lungs.
Nothing happened.
I put my foot down, eliciting another, softer creak. Pretending to walk on the thinnest ice imaginable, I padded down the front hall and into the sitting room. I expected more of the same: coffee cups on the arm of the sofa, books turned upside down to save the reader’s place, a half-eaten cookie on a plate left on the floor.