Plane of the Godless

by Peter Hartz

  The four guards in front backed up slowly against the closed door behind them. One reached behind them to try the door handle, but the door opened into the hall they presently occupied, and the weight of the four terrified men against it held it shut as tight as if it were still locked.

  The bear stopped about ten feet from the now terrified guards, and as it stood up it changed back into the form of the inmate. Then he spoke to them.

  “I didn’t do what I am in prison for. And I will not be abused by anyone ever again. You can take me back to my cell, but if one of you lays a hand on me, or tries anything at all, I will rip you all into bloody little pieces. Do you understand me?”

  The quiet tone of voice, and the sound of absolute confidence in it, came through loud and clear. The guard in front nodded, then held up his hand as the inmate tried to walk past them. “Wait!”

  “WHAT!?” he thundered at them, and the sergeant flinched.

  “You’re naked! You need something to wear! You can’t go out there like that!” it came out in a rush, nearly unintelligible, and he tried to get his point across before he was sure to be ripped to shreds.

  Craig suddenly looked down at himself, then leaned up against the wall. “Fine. I’ll wait here.”

  “We can take care of that. Can one of us see to the other guard? Is he hurt?”

  “He might have a few bruises. I tossed him around some. I think he is not in the best of moods right now. You might want to get him to a shrink. I hear they have some around here somewhere.” It was a joke; he had steadfastly and adamantly refused to see one to help with his supposed ‘mental disorder’, knowing that he was innocent of what had put him in prison in the first place.

  “What did he do? Why did you…?” The lead guard had no words as he looked at the other end of the hallway where two of his men had reached the tortured soul on the floor, and tried to calm him.

  “My cell is in the sex-offender wing. I take it I am not there now?” A shake of the lead guard’s head confirmed what he suspected.

  “I think those three men in that shower were supposed to administer an attitude adjustment to me because of the crime I didn’t commit.” The grim tone of voice brought the lead guard’s attention back to the naked inmate in front of him. As he looked at the naked man in front of him who had just moments before shown such extraordinary, unheard-of abilities, his innate skepticism must have shown on his face.

  The inmate turned to look him in the eye. “I’m in here for life. No chance of parole, in a state without the death penalty. Don’t you think that if I had done it, I would not have held back? I could have shredded those inmates, that guard, and your entire team. Don’t believe that I couldn’t. But in spite of this bullshit I am in the middle of, I still believe that all life is sacred and has value. I couldn’t have harmed that child. I could no more have killed that guard than I could have ripped those inmates apart. As much as I might want to because of my current situation, I can’t, not if I want to be able to live with myself, regardless of where I am.” He turned and looked at the prison around them, and his gesturing hand took in the place he was locked up inside. The flat tone of his voice and the pain on his face showed the hellish nightmare he couldn’t wake up from that had lasted nearly four years since he had been arrested for something he knew he didn’t do.

  The guard had heard many stories over the years from prisoners; too many to count. Almost every prisoner spouted that he was innocent. He must have been framed. The prosecutor had it out for him. The police framed him. Someone else did it; it wasn’t him. But this was different.

  Here was a person fully capable of destroying everyone and everything in his path, or even just walking out untouched if he wanted, and he chose not to. The thought of just standing here next to him both terrified and exhilarated him to the point that he was a little short of breath. Maybe this one was telling the truth. But it wasn’t his job to change anything, or even to care. It was his job to preserve the way things were, the order of things created by the justice system, whatever its flaws.

  “Well, there is nothing I can do about your situation. But I can get you back to where you belong – I mean, where you are assigned to be. I am certain that the recordings of this are going to get out, and you will have a lot of unhappy company soon. They are going to want to know how you did that. Hell, I want to know, myself, even if it is just to know if anyone else is capable of doing it.” His thoughts flashed back moments ago to the form of the huge, terrifying bear. He suddenly realized that he had wet himself in the moment, and he flushed in embarrassment. But he tried to go on gamely.

  “Let’s get you something to wear, and get you back there,” he said, as more guards started to appear, along with a medical team for the guard who had finally screamed himself hoarse.

  Craig turned and nodded at the guard on the floor that was now rocking back and forth, eyes shut tight, teeth clenched hard, a low continuous moan coming from him with every breath. “He needs a lot of help. Something else is buried deep inside, and it is eating him away. I took my anger out on him, sure, but something made him think doing this to me was ok.”

  The lead guard turned in surprise as the compassionate statement reached his ears. The other guards that had just arrived had apparently been told that something had happened, but everything was under control at the moment, and they needed to listen to the sergeant of the guard on scene.

  The sergeant took the coverall, socks and undergarment the guard behind him held out, and handed it to the inmate, who put everything on, followed by the slippers.

  Craig wondered at the changes inside him that allowed him to change shape like that. It felt so natural that it didn’t bother him; it was like he could have always done that, if he’d just known how. He was exhilarated at the thought, like he could fly or something. Hmmm. His mind was on other things as the guards led him back to his cell in the sex-offender ward. The sergeant of the guard walked amiably beside him, ushering him through doors and hallways. He didn’t say anything, as he contemplated the huge change deep inside.

  The last doorway he was led to was the entry to his cell. The sergeant wanted to say something to the young man in front of him, but had no idea what would be ok, or even received. The look the inmate gave him acknowledged that, but also held a raft of other emotions. The anger was still there, but was joined by despair, frustration, and some other feelings too complex for sergeant of the prison guard to understand. One emotion the sergeant clearly recognized, though: an overwhelming sense of loss. For a moment, the inmate and the guard just looked into each other’s eyes, and while they did, some connection was made between them. Then it abruptly disappeared as the inmate turned away, and walked into his cell.

  The clang of the door closing seemed to echo down the hallway for much longer than usual to the guards, as each one independently came to the same question: was the locked door keeping the inmate in, or keeping others out? And would it really keep him in if he wanted out?

  Craig turned at the last minute and spoke through the door to the sergeant, who was walking away slowly. “Hey, I want to speak with my lawyer, and the prosecutor for my case. Can you see if that is possible?”

  The sergeant turned back and responded, “I don’t see why not, at least in the case of your lawyer. I am certain you will need to speak with him anyways, once more people see the security camera footage of your recent adventure. The prosecutor is another matter. I can put the request through channels, and he might be more convinced of coming if he learns about your ability. Or maybe even less. I will pass it up.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” The words clearly carried the anger and frustration Craig felt to the sergeant, and he winced internally. The more he contemplated what had just happened, and considered the overall ramifications, he became more and more convinced that the younger man locked up in the cell didn’t belong there. But by the same token, he was glad it wasn’t his job to make that determination. He squared his shoulders, and walked
on to face whatever storm was about to blow into his life.

  Chapter 18

  The gate returned Giltreas and Dave to the same clearing as before. The drive back to the cottage was quiet as both men contemplated the new experiences that they had both stumbled into. This time, with no prisoners behind him to keep his attention on, Giltreas looked around absently at this strange plane that Dave called home, not really focusing on what he was seeing as he considered the strange actions of his Patron in recent memory. He was a very sharp, well-trained, skilled tool that was applied to solve problems that had a clear and precise nature. What he was now doing was in some ways quite far outside what he had ever been called upon to do, but the warm, gentle pulse he felt in his chest at the thought affirmed that the notice from his Patron had been clear: he was doing what his Patron wanted.

  Dave likewise spent the few minutes contemplating everything he needed to do so Giltreas would be able to blend in and be able to be effective in the search for whoever had ordered Michelle’s murder. It was a tall order. With no state identification card, he could not prove that he was in the country legally, let alone that he was from the planet. He snorted internally at that thought. Dave was convinced that Giltreas was not human. On the one hand, his mother was the elvish queen of a place that humanity here on Earth had no idea existed. But even if he had status as a noble, there was no way to prove his existence. If Giltreas was picked up by any local, state, or Federal authority, Dave had no idea how it would play out. He was in the country illegally, certainly. He almost smiled as he considered whether or not he was on the planet illegally, as well.

  The train of thought was cut off abruptly as he made the turn onto the dirt road that led to the cottage. He turned to Giltreas and spoke.

  “We have to get on the road right away. I need to get to the office and get you an ID card so you can come with me to work Monday. We will have tomorrow to plan and think about what to do, but right now, I am at a loss. I guess we will have to just see what happens when I get back to the office and everyone else is there. That one said I was supposed to be next, so if the first one we are looking for is someone there, they will be surprised to see me. We will have to keep our eyes open to see if we spot anyone not expecting me.

  “In the meantime, we will have to get a load of things back to the ladies at the elvish city. Will you be able to open a gate from anywhere, such as inside my house? Or will we have to come back here to go there?” The question came out with a slight bit of apprehension, as the inconvenience of a lengthy trip across the state would make the logistics of Michelle and Allison staying in Queen Delara’s household.~~

  “I will see when we get there, but there should be no need to come back here. I am able to call a gate from most any place I find myself, and I can send a gate to any place I can remember.” It wasn’t only places that he remembered, he thought to himself, but that was a story for another time.

  “Good,” Dave replied. “We have a lot to do before Monday to get you ready for being in the corporate world. Clothes, changing your image somewhat, things like that. I was thinking that I would present you as being a new recruit for my program. That would let me get you a badge with full access to everywhere.” He saw the confusion on his passenger’s face, and sighed internally. “I have a lot of things to explain to you, as well. I think that we will go directly to the office after we get to town, so I can answer all your questions, and get you acclimated. The place should be empty. We’ll cover as much as we can, but if you run into anything, feel free to ask any questions that come to mind. I think we might want to stick with my language, English, and anything sensitive we will have to talk about in a private room.”

  Giltreas nodded. This world was strange. He would need as much guidance as possible to make sure he didn’t draw attention to himself. A question presented itself to him, and he gave voice to it.

  “Shall I cut my hair? I am guessing from your appearance that most men will not wear long hair. I am certain to be unusual enough that I want to do what I can to not be a wolf amongst the sheep.”

  Dave nodded. “I’m glad you asked. I wasn’t sure how to bring that up, as lots of people are very attached to how they look.”

  Giltreas shrugged. “It is only hair. From time to time, I am pressed to a task that requires me to change my appearance. It will grow back, unless I like the new countenance I see, then I will maintain it a while.”

  “Most men in a corporate environment like our company wear their hair short. There is no requirement to do so, but it is easier to keep clean and neat. I know someone who can cut and style it for you. We will have to go shopping for clothes today, as well. We will have to get you a lot of stuff to wear. A nice suit, slacks, jeans, shirts, shoes, stuff to wear underneath, and so on. It will be getting colder soon, so you will need some cold weather stuff, too.”

  He thought for a moment more, then glanced over at his passenger. “Do you plan on carrying weapons at the office?”

  Giltreas thought about the question, and what it implied. “Mayhap a single blade, easily concealed, would suffice. Is that an issue?”

  “I don’t think so. We have metal detectors at the entrance that most visitors have to go through, but you won’t be a visitor. Another benefit of bringing you in on a Saturday – we can get the orientation process completed without anyone else seeing and asking questions.”

  Giltreas wasn’t sure what orientation meant. The definition of the word brought to him by the Learn Language spell made little sense. Some parts were confusing, and he didn’t see how which way he was looking would make much sense in terms of fitting in. Were there some things he was supposed to look away from? That did not match what was said earlier about access to everything. Instead of asking questions now that might be answered by waiting, he simply shrugged.

  “I will be guided by you, then, my friend,” he smiled gently.

  Dave saw the smile, and smiled back. “We will get you completely inside, then we can start digging.” The smile turned much more predatory. “And when we find something, we will have work to do.”

  “Agreed.”

  ◆◆◆

  The senior inspector walked around to the front of the building, staying away from the back stairway where evidence had yet to be processed, and the blood cleaned up. His stomach, usually quite robust, had decided that, given the circumstances, it would be just as happy as the rest of him if it never had to see, or smell, any of what was inside that place again.

  The man standing patiently outside the front door near the officer stationed there turned as he approached.

  “Senior Inspector. I am Borysko Yevtukh.” He held out his hand, and the inspector took it in surprise.

  “What can I do for the Special Group Alpha, Mister Yevtukh?” The question came out much calmer than Gnezy would have expected.

  Yevtukh winced internally. He should have expected a senior inspector in Georgia’s national police agency to recognize him. Well, what’s done is done.

  “I am following the trail of a produce truck that apparently dropped someone off at this address within the last day or so.”

  Gnezy gave the man standing next to him a hard look. “Why is your government taking such a close interest in something that happened in my country?”

  Borysko looked down briefly, and decided that honesty was required here. He was in a different country, and had no official support from his government.

  The clerk had been looking at the main door when the girl had been snatched, but the sound of the back door slamming alerted her that something was wrong. She had turned, and immediately noticed that the young girl that had been looking at greeting cards near the back of the store wasn’t there anymore. She put it together with the strange man that had been standing around making her nervous rather quickly, and called the police.

  Within minutes, the police had arrived, and quickly after that, security camera footage had confirmed that the girl had been grabbed bodily by the big man in t
he farmer’s coverall, tossed in a van in the back alley, and had been driven away.

  While talking to his wife in their hotel room above the gift shop, Borysko had a sudden feeling of dread wash over him. His wife saw all color drain from his face, and put her hand to her mouth in fear.

  Borysko turned and ran for the door, shouting, “Lock the door and call the police! Something has happened!” The door slammed behind him before he could say anything else, and within minutes, he was down in the gift shop, arriving just as the occupants of the first police car that just arrived finished walking across the hotel lobby and into the small shop.

  Most times, police officers would have not allowed the father of a potentially missing minor to have any involvement in the investigation, but Borysko Yevtukh was a high-ranking officer in the Special Group Alpha, the special police forces of Ukraine dedicated to, among other things, fighting organized crime. It was impossible to exclude him from seeing the security camera footage, or anything else.

  A single phone call to his superiors had been all that Borysko had needed to secure permission to go after the kidnappers himself, with a unit under his command mobilized to follow as quickly as they could assemble.

  Within several hours, they were on the trail. Traffic camera footage had allowed them to follow the path the produce truck took, but they were unable to overtake, being forced to rely on officers at the central headquarters to review what was coming in from the national traffic coordination center. Several times during those first two days, they thought that the truck was going to get entangled in the road blocks, sober driver checkpoints, and anything else they could come up with that would allow local police units to intercept the truck and get the girl back, but somehow the driver magically detoured around everything they tried.