Carnival of Mayhem (Gray Spear Society)

by Siegel, Alex

  "I'll need your help," he told Nancy. "Put on gloves."

  Both of them snapped on latex gloves.

  He opened one of the refrigerator drawers marked with a biohazard symbol, and he pulled the sheet off the corpse. It was a young woman with blond hair. There wasn't time to be delicate or respectful, so he lifted the body and dumped it onto the examination table.

  "I'm going to collect tissue samples," he said. "We'll store them in latex gloves, one sample per glove. Write a description on each with the marker, tie them closed like balloons, and put the samples into the garbage bag. Understand?"

  Nancy nodded with an uneasy expression.

  "I'm going to work very fast, which means I'll get very messy. There will be odors and fluids. Please don't throw up."

  "I'll do my best, sir." She swallowed.

  Smythe took a scalpel from the tray of tools and began to work. She held open the first glove for him.

  "Skin," he said.

  She let him drop the sample into the glove. She tied it closed and wrote on it.

  "Abdominal muscle... stomach... upper intestine... liver... lower intestine..."

  Dark blood oozed as he sliced away chunks of flesh. Even though he was in a hurry, he made sure to keep his fingers away from the blade. The last thing he needed was a dangerous cut. The corpse was fresh so the smell wasn't bad. Occasionally, he glanced at the men on the floor to make sure they didn't move.

  The last few samples were of joint and bone tissue. Smythe used a saw to collect these, which took more time than he liked. Nancy was beginning to look nauseous as he sawed away. When he was finally done, he threw away his gloves and washed his hands thoroughly. She did the same.

  He took the garbage bag from her. It weighed a good ten pounds.

  "Gentlemen," he said to the orderly and the soldier, "we're done. Thank you for your cooperation. Believe it or not, you helped save many lives today."

  He and Nancy hurried out.

  The second soldier seemed troubled as they walked past but didn't say anything.

  Smythe led Nancy down the hallway until they came to a supply closet. He pulled her inside and closed the door.

  "What are we doing?" she said. "I thought we were leaving, sir."

  "I'm sure the soldiers are alerting security right now. Every exit will be heavily guarded. We can't just walk out."

  "Oh." She grimaced.

  "Don't worry. I have a plan."

  "When you asked me to come along, you didn't make it clear this job would be so risky. We could get arrested."

  "Are you afraid?" he asked.

  "I'm not supposed to do risky stuff. I'm not a legionnaire like you, and I don't have your training. I'm surprised Ethel approved of me coming with you."

  "Uh..."

  Nancy winced. "You didn't talk to her. That's not good, sir. She likes to know what her people are doing. She would certainly want to know about this."

  He inhaled deeply. "I'll face Ethel when the time comes. That's my problem, not yours."

  He was putting on a brave face, but in fact he was worried. His respect for and fear of Ethel was profound.

  "As long as we both escape unharmed, it probably won't be a big deal," Nancy said. "So, what's the plan?"

  "First, we change our disguises."

  He looked around the closet until he found a stack of clean, blue scrubs. Both of them picked out tops and bottoms in their own size. The closet was too small to offer any privacy, so they just turned away from each other when they changed. He stuffed the old outfits into a dark corner. The only items he kept were his car keys, his phone, and a small container of theatrical makeup.

  He showed her the makeup. "Hold still."

  He carefully applied the greasy material to her face and hands, making her skin several shades darker. She did the same for him.

  "Step two," he said, "is finding a janitor cart. Let's go."

  They left the supply closet.

  Smythe walked confidently through the hospital. He still remembered the place from when he had worked here. Whenever he passed anybody in the hallway, he gave them a polite, little smile. He made sure he never appeared hurried or nervous. Nancy walked beside him, clearly trying to emulate his behavior.

  He decided a little conversation would help soothe her. "I just realized we've never really talked," he said. "I don't know much about you. How did you become a Spear?"

  She glanced left and right. "Years ago, I was a mechanic in the Navy. I repaired fighter jets on an aircraft carrier."

  "Really?" His eyes opened wide. "I had no idea you were so skilled."

  "Every Spear is skilled, sir. I was one of the best mechanics on the carrier. They would've promoted me to master sergeant, which is pretty special for a woman."

  "What happened?"

  "A jet exploded during takeoff." She looked down. "It was a bad scene. Dead bodies and wreckage all over the deck. Somebody had to take the fall, and I happened to work on the plane, so I was chosen. I was dishonorably discharged."

  "Was it your fault?"

  "No, sir. There was a design defect, but it was discovered years later."

  "Bad luck," he said.

  "After the Navy I bounced around for a while. I eventually went to work in a shop that built and customized exotic cars. The gig was very cool until I got arrested. It turned out the shop chopped up stolen cars at night and sold the parts during the day. The police thought I was part of the gang."

  "More bad luck."

  "Until I met Marina in jail," she said. "That was the best luck I ever had."

  "Why was she in jail?"

  "The police caught her with concealed weapons, lots of them. She likes knives."

  He nodded. "I noticed. Is it just me, or does she seem a little crazy to you?"

  "She is crazy, sir. If she weren't one of us, she'd have her own room in the loony bin. Aaron helps her stay in control. He's really good for her."

  A squad of police officers came running down the hall. Smythe knew any movement would draw unwanted attention, so he just stood and watched them go by. Nancy had the good sense to follow his example.

  When the cops were gone, he asked her, "So, Marina recruited you?"

  "She told Ethel about me, and Ethel recruited me. Joining was an easy decision. My life was shit. I had no close family, no real friends. She gave me a reason to live."

  "Sounds like my story." He spotted an abandoned janitor cart at the end of a hall. "There!"

  He ran over, grabbed it, and hurried off. She jogged after him.

  He put the precious bag of tissue samples into the large garbage can on the cart. "Our next destination is the nursery. I think that's on the third floor."

  "Why the nursery?" she said.

  "Because they have lots of stinky diapers."

  She raised her eyebrows. He winked at her.

  When he heard the sound of crying infants, he knew he had arrived at the nursery. He pushed the cart through a double-door into a huge room divided into two sections. The healthy babies were on the left, each in a separate crib. They were just waiting to go home. The babies who needed special care were on the right. The really sick ones had private rooms.

  Smythe went left. One of the nurses watched him, but when he started to empty the garbage cans, she lost interest. He made sure to clean out the air-tight containers that held the dirty diapers. The odor was very impressive when he popped off the lids. He avoided any dangerous medical waste.

  "Now what?" Nancy said.

  "I think we're finally ready to leave the hospital," he said. "We'll go out the back door."

  He led her down to the ground floor. He headed towards the service entrance in back, where the hospital took deliveries. He peeked around the corner and found two soldiers with assault rifles guarding the exit. They appeared alert.

  He pulled his head back. "This will be the interesting part. They're looking for a man and a woman together. If you're alone, you should be able to walk out."

&nbs
p; "What about you?"

  "I'll be a passenger." He dumped the garbage can onto the floor. He climbed in and tried to push himself down as far as possible. It was a tight fit. "Cover me up."

  She piled garbage on top of him. The stink made his eyes water, but he found if he held his nose and breathed through his mouth, he could avoid the worst of it. She packed the garbage down until he almost couldn't see daylight.

  "Perfect. Go. Hurry." His muscles were already starting to cramp, and the odor was making him gag.

  "This kind of shit is exactly why I'm not a legionnaire," she muttered.

  The cart jostled him as it began to move.

  After a minute it stopped.

  "What have you got there?" a male voice said.

  "Two hundred pounds of baby poop," she replied. "Want to inspect it?"

  "No! I can smell it. Keep moving, please. Quickly."

  Smythe smiled.

  The cart resumed its journey. The air suddenly got colder, which meant they were outside.

  "All clear," Nancy said, "You can get out."

  He pushed garbage bags out of the way and stood up. He took a deep breath of fresh air. From the position of the sun, he guessed it was late afternoon.

  "Good job," he said. "Thank you."

  "Just take me back to headquarters," she said, "sir."

  He recovered the bag containing the tissue samples. "Gladly."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Aaron rapped his knuckles on the truck trailer. The word "Mooseland" was painted on the side in huge brown and gold letters.

  "Are you sure this is the one?" he said into his phone.

  "Pretty sure, sir," Edward replied from his computer station in headquarters, "unless you see another Mooseland truck nearby."

  Aaron looked around. "Nope."

  The truck was parked in an alley behind a row of apartment buildings. The space was barely wide enough, and he wondered how the Eternals had maneuvered the huge vehicle into such a tight spot. Nobody was guarding it or sitting in the cab.

  "The truck's tracking signal is at your exact location," Edward said.

  "OK." Aaron furrowed his brow. "Thanks for your help." He closed his phone and turned to Marina and Ethel.

  All three of them still wore their long, gray coats. Even though the air was cold, he was sweating from running with thirty pounds of weapons and equipment on his body. His snug body armor prevented him from taking deep breaths.

  "This is it," he said.

  Ethel nodded. "Search the truck. Maybe our enemies left a clue behind. But be very careful. Don't forget they like poisons and traps."

  "I'll check the cab, ma'am. Marina, can you check the trailer?"

  Marina nodded. "Sure."

  "And I'll watch the street." Ethel walked away.

  Aaron looked into the cab through the driver's side window. The keys were still in the ignition, but otherwise, there was nothing remarkable or apparently dangerous about the brown vinyl interior.

  Suspicious, he decided to try a different perspective. He climbed onto the hood and looked straight down through the windshield. He spotted a hand grenade wedged between the door and the seat. If he had opened the door, he would be dead now. Nasty trick.

  He kicked the windshield with both his legs. The laminated glass was strong, but after several hard blows it gave way.

  He wanted to check the glove compartment, so he carefully pried it open with a combat knife, keeping his hands away. A spring-loaded dart shot out and hit the seat. The needle tip was coated with a brown substance. Still using the knife, he fished out the contents of the glove compartment. He only found maps, registration, and insurance papers.

  Suddenly, the entire truck lurched. There was a loud, metallic crunch, as if a very heavy object had landed on it. Car alarms began to wail.

  He scrambled off the hood and ran around to the back of the truck. The rear doors were blown out and twisted.

  "Marina!" he yelled.

  "Over here," she replied. "I'm OK."

  She was hiding behind a dumpster, unharmed. She stood up.

  He sighed with relief. "What happened?"

  "I tried to pop open the doors with a small charge. Obviously, there was a bomb inside."

  He looked into the back of the truck and saw it was completely empty. "Where the hell is the poisoned beer?"

  "I have no idea," Marina said.

  Ethel ran over and said, "Let's go. Everybody in the neighborhood heard that explosion. The police will be here any second."

  The three of them walked briskly away.

  "Where are we going, ma'am?" Aaron said.

  "I'm not sure," she said. "Keep your eyes open."

  "We have to find the beer."

  "I know."

  They reached the street and headed south. The sidewalks were crowded and the general flow was towards the baseball game, but plenty of people were headed the other way. Everywhere he looked, Aaron saw cups of beer. It smelled like a party even with a cool breeze blowing.

  Wrigley Field was directly ahead. The "Friendly Confines" was built from steel beams arranged in a regular grid. Walls of brick filled some of the square spaces and others were left open. The austere architecture was elegant. It was clearly a place for nothing other than baseball.

  Aaron noticed a man carrying a cup with the "Mooseland" logo on it. He ran over and asked, "Where did you get that beer?"

  "Up Clark Street. They're giving it away."

  "For free?" Aaron raised his eyebrows.

  "Yeah," the man said, "but if you want some, you'd better hurry. It's going fast."

  Aaron smacked the poisoned beer out of the man's hand.

  "Hey! You asshole!"

  Aaron looked at Ethel and Marina. "Run."

  They sprinted over to Clark Street and turned north. The heavy pedestrian traffic kept getting in the way. They were forced onto the street to maintain a good pace. Fortunately, there was no danger of getting hit by a car. The mother of all traffic jams had spread across the entire neighborhood.

  It didn't take long to find the source of free beer. A thick crowd was packed into an empty lot near a park. A big, hand painted banner read, "The Mooseland Brewery celebrates the Chicago Cubs!"

  "This is a nightmare," Ethel said.

  Aaron nodded. He pressed forward into the crowd, which grew even thicker towards the center. Everybody had beer, sometimes more than one cup. He tried not to let any of the poison slosh onto his skin from the constant jostling. It's a death party, he thought.

  In the center of the mob, three men stood on a low platform. They had a huge stack of beer kegs and were filling cups as quickly as they could. Aaron recognized two young men from the security video in the brewery. The third had a sunset symbol drawn on his forehead with scars instead of ink. He had to be Harbinger. He was a tall, athletic man with a very masculine face. All three wore Mooseland caps and T-shirts.

  "I'm open to suggestions," Ethel said.

  She, Marina, and Aaron put their heads together so they could speak quietly and still be heard. It seemed like everybody in the crowd was yelling drunkenly about the Cubs.

  "We could just stab the Eternals and run," Marina said.

  "No," Ethel said. "Too many witnesses. We may have to wait until the beer is gone and the crowd disperses so we can deal with the enemy discreetly."

  "Every cup is another death," Aaron said. "We have to stop this insanity now."

  "You sound like Smythe," Ethel said.

  He shrugged. "That doesn't make me wrong, ma'am. I could use a smoke grenade to clear the crowd."

  "And start a stampede?"

  "If we do nothing, everybody will die, anyway."

  "No," she said. "We might lose the enemy in the chaos. Instead, we'll quietly walk up to them, stick a gun in their ribs, and escort them away. I'll take Harbinger. Marina, you take the man on the left. Aaron, you take the man on the right. If they run, chase them. Understood?"

  Aaron and Marina nodded.


  "We'll need a distraction," Ethel said. "I want all the civilians looking the other way. Aaron, that's your job. Marina and I will stay here."

  "Yes, ma'am." He turned around and pushed through the crowd to get out.

  Once he could move freely, he looked around. The nearby park gave him an idea. It was full of big, old trees that still carried many yellow, red, and brown leaves.

  He went to a tree and crouched behind it so he wouldn't be seen. Then, he took a small square of C-4 from under his coat. He pressed the soft white putty into a space between the thick roots. He attached an electronic detonator and set the timer for five minutes. Finally, he covered it with sticks and leaves.

  He hurried back to rejoin his comrades.

  "Two and a half minutes left," he told Ethel after checking his watch.

  She nodded.

  Marina moved through the crowd towards the left side of the platform, Aaron went right, and Ethel remained in the middle. Aaron reached into his coat and grabbed his pistol without drawing it. The rubber grip felt just right in his hand.

  Harbinger suddenly stretched his arms up and yawned. With a broad smile he looked at the crowd all around him.

  His eyes focused on Ethel, and his smile vanished.

  "Run!" he yelled. "Go!"

  The Eternals scattered, going in three different directions.

  * * *

  Ethel slipped through the thick crowd like a snake gliding through tall grass. The human obstacles appeared almost stationary in her eyes. She merely had to walk in the narrow spaces between them. By the time they reacted to her fleeting presence, she was already three steps away.

  Harbinger, on the other hand, was shoving people left and right as he struggled to escape. She followed him as easily as a cat chasing a snail. Even though she could've killed him with a quick knife thrust, she didn't. There were too many witnesses around. "Discretion" was the watchword in all Society operations.

  Besides, she wanted to have a conversation with him. She liked to learn as much as possible about each enemy as preparation for the next one. She could never have too much information about the opposition.

  Harbinger reached the open street and sprinted north. The skin on his head became pale as all the blood rushed to his muscles. Ethel observed his gait was slightly uneven. Lumps under his T-shirt suggested he carried concealed weapons, probably knives and handguns. She jogged a couple of paces behind him. To her, the chase seemed like a lackadaisical stroll.