Twig

by wildbow

  He wasn’t lying down for a full second before the fertilizer caught the flame. As explosions went, it wasn’t quite as good as I’d hoped for. The Academy-provided fertilizers were loaded with chemicals that tended to burn easily, and this wasn’t an exception, but it might well have gotten wet at some point or suffered for time spent in the garage with the stitched horse and cart. The rolling flame did extend from one end of the street to the other, spreading over the people we’d bowled into with the cart and the eight other individuals who hadn’t been fast enough in clearing out.

  The apostle, who’d just thrown himself to the ground, was lifted into the air in what seemed like a comical way, heels over head.

  We left all of them behind. There were two more containers for the three remaining groups. Distractions to shift their priorities away from shooting us and toward self preservation. If there were more groups than the three, they’d already moved further ahead than we were, and would be near the train station.

  We wheeled around, and we stopped, catching our breath.

  Jamie got off the cart and looked at the horse. He looked at me and shook his head.

  “No?” I asked.

  “Won’t hold up much longer,” Jamie said.

  “We’ll send it on its way, then,” I said.

  We got off the cart. I blinded the horse, pulling my shirt off and wrapping it around the horse’s face, and then we goaded it into another gallop, moving back the way we’d come. Slim chances we’d hit anything. But it might draw fire, and it might run over someone. If it made noise or distracted, which was far more likely, then that was good enough.

  “Clean up,” I said. Then, for Noreen’s benefit, I said, “If they’re dragging their friends to safety, we pick them off.”

  She nodded.

  “Assuming you don’t have a lot of killing under your belt, just do what I say, alright?”

  Another nod.

  Whatever magic Jamie had worked, she was playing ball now. I still kept a leery eye on her. I’d have to ask Jamie for the details.

  It was the smaller, edge groups that proved the most difficult to tackle. They were most wary, most aware that there weren’t many friends nearby. They kept gun in hand and watched the shadows, expecting the attack from the flanks. As eager as Noreen was, Jamie and I handled most of them, using coordination, knives, and careful timing.

  It made for glacial progress, and I knew that the Devil had already made it to the train station.

  As we drew closer to the big group, however, there was a gap in the defenses. People too trusting of others to watch their backs. They were people who’d just recently been led, and their leader was now on a makeshift stretcher, being carried by four members of the group, a fifth leading the way and providing direction, the sixth at the rear flank.

  The sixth took a knife without making a sound.

  Then, at my instruction, counting down with hand signals, Noreen, Jamie and I opened fire on the remaining group. Only the one in the lead managed to escape without getting shot. He ran in the direction of the train station.

  “I really hoped to get the Devil,” I said.

  “Seeing the man, I feel like we would have stopped dead if we’d collided with him. I know that’s hyperbole, but—”

  “He would have caught the reins, or climbed on,” Noreen said.

  I glanced back at her. “That’s your sideways instinct?”

  That got me a nod.

  Yet I still remained confused.

  Why did I not understand her any more than I had before Jamie had dug into her background and psychology? Annoying.

  I stooped down over the Apostle. He was burned and acting like he was still reeling from the explosion. I used one hand to turn his head, making the man wince, and saw that his ears were a mess. He wouldn’t hear me if I tried to interrogate him. I could connect the dots, figure his middle ear was damaged, and conclude that he likely had vertigo like he’d never experienced before. An endless, dizzying fall that consumed all his senses.

  I began collecting the weapons. I was happy to see grenades. I kept them mostly for myself, we exchanged the cheaper revolvers and pistols for better quality guns, and then moved on our way.

  The buildings that looked out on the approaches to the train station were occupied, according to Pierre. We’d cleared away some of the pawns and we’d left them shaken. With luck, they would be off balance, there might even be bickering, if there were multiple factions there. If we could plant that seed of dissent, then the Demon’s reputation and methods could easily do the work for us.

  We made our way toward the next isolated group, likely the last we would catch. The next would make it to the train station before we made it to them. We stayed to the shadow, watching them.

  They were keeping an eye out for us. They’d heard the gunfire.

  Hopefully, they would make a mistake, or leave us a gap.

  I felt a faint hope when I saw the local forces making their approach. Men in uniform supported by Academy. The squad consisted of three men in uniform, two stitched, and a scientist to oversee the stitched and the small warbeast, which was the size of a mastiff.

  There would be other groups just like this one, I knew. From the looks over their shoulders, checking, I suspected the thugs knew the same thing. They seemed nervous at the approach.

  But there was no animosity.

  The law was here to help, and they were here to help the enemy.

  He has too firm a hold on this city, I thought. He’s absolutely secure in his power, like this. The reinforcements are going to be endless.

  “I’ve completely lost track of time,” I said. I hadn’t intended to say it aloud.

  “It’s close to one in the morning,” Jamie said. “We have seven hours.”

  The police and the soldiers moved on, watching over their shoulders for us as they headed in the direction of the train station.

  I watched them in silence until they were out of our line of sight, in a position where we would have had to expose ourselves and risk being seen to keep observing.

  “You’re concerned about the time?” Jamie asked.

  “More than a little,” I said. I chewed my lip. The siege wouldn’t work. We couldn’t lock them down and cut off both supplies and reinforcements. The uniformed squads were a lot harder to take on.

  The Devil’s face lingered in my mind’s eye.

  What had Maurice said? The Devil was a creature of chaos. Like me. He reveled in it, in being unpredictable. Like me.

  But he was also a sadist. He was a savage. He was strong.

  I couldn’t believe he would simply sit still. He would act, and after seeing him put us in bad positions with two of his last three moves, I was betting the act would smart.

  He would do it from a position of power. Something we sorely lacked.

  “Might need an hour or five to puzzle out an answer to this one,” I said.

  Previous Next

  Dyed in the Wool—12.10

  The fires we’d started to open the night died down over the ensuing hour, which had an odd effect. I wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the way heat rose or the air currents that the open fires created, but now that the fires were dying, the smoke was worse than it had been all night.

  I sat at our roost, a high rooftop overlooking the area, and I watched as men came and went. There were more squads of officers, stitched, doctors and warbeasts now patrolling the area. The smoke was likely a mercy of sorts, because the warbeasts hadn’t managed to scent our trail.

  With fire on people’s minds, there were water pumps and hoses being carted around to strategic positions as well.

  I’d told Jamie to inform me every time an hour passed, and he’d informed me of the first small movement of the short hand just a minute ago. It hadn’t felt like I’d spent an hour ruminating, but I was willing to take him at his word.

  Three and a half hours to sunrise. Already, the coalition of the local underworld and the protectors
of the city were taking up different positions. By dawn, it would look like the site was secured by law enforcement. The Devil would be absent or hidden.

  It felt like time for the man to make his move. I wanted to have a good idea on what to do to make a countermove.

  Jamie spoke up. I couldn’t see him that well in the gloom, but his voice was clear. “I don’t want to interrupt your train of thought, but I’ve been thinking things through, considering all the individual details on people, places, things, that we know about West Corinth and the surrounding cities, and I’ve hit a wall. If you have any starting points for other things to discuss, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No train of thought. I’m going in circles.”

  “Talk to me about the circles.”

  “Points to attack, mainly. Is there an aspect of his character I can utilize? Morality or a lack thereof? Patience or a lack thereof? Can I bait him or use the fact that he’s about to do something against him? Can I change the facts as he sees them and paint a different picture?”

  “Is it possible you’re narrowing your focus too much? The Devil is interesting, so you focus on him. All of those things are attacking his being. His identity.”

  “Maybe. But I’ve considered other ways. Still focusing on him, but bigger picture, things like hitting him on the reputation front—”

  “We tried that.”

  “We did. I thought the way we’d done the fires and framed everything would put him at odds with the law. Apparently not.”

  Jamie moved closer to me. He sat with his back to the side of the chimney I was peering past as I watched the soldiers. “If it helps, the officers down there are only part of West Corinth’s law enforcement. Dirty cops, I’d say. Or good cops led by a dirty superior.”

  “Yeah.” I wasn’t surprised, and I’d considered the possibility as I’d mentally wrestled with the situation.”

  “You were saying? Other methods of attack. Reputation.”

  “We already hit him on the confidence front. The wagon thing had to smart. Losing the Apostle has to have weakened his grasp on some of the thugs he’s with. If there was another way, just some way to make them hurt, it could turn that crack into a divide. That ties into the respect of his men, and the flip side of that same coin is whether we can weaponize his respect or lack of respect for his men. Taking hostages, or fostering dissent, yes?”

  “Yes,” Jamie said.

  “Having you listen is helpful. Do chime in if you think of anything. I just said something about making him and his men hurt. Is there a good way to attack? To cost them resources and weaken their ability to hold the city? To hurt the organization? Their families? Can we figure out where he lives, and get both information and burn that down too?”

  “Noreen would prefer to attack, I think,” Jamie said.

  “I’m not sure there’s a good way to do it. We’d have to get close. I’d send another runaway wagon their way with a proper bomb, but I’m fairly certain it would get gunned down.”

  “Fair.”

  “And that’s where I get stuck in an endless loop. I’ve been thinking about the other gang leaders, those present and those absent.”

  “Same.”

  “And about the local powers. If we could crack this by getting at the mayor, using the leverage of having helped his family. Or if there are other powers. Media? Workers? The end goal is to keep the Lambs from arriving and getting killed.”

  “There’s a possibility that they won’t,” Jamie said.

  “That they might fend for themselves? Or even be using a different means of approach?”

  Jamie gave me a nod.

  “Yeah. But there’s a possibility they will arrive on the train,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Lots of one-word answers from you. Tired?” I asked.

  “Tired,” he agreed.

  I wasn’t sure what to add to that. Jamie was sleeping twelve or more hours a day, most days. He hadn’t slept that much recently.

  “If you want to slog off and go rest, I won’t say no.”

  “You’re such a damn liar, Sy,” Jamie said. “You’re stumped. You need me.”

  “If you want to nap now, then, refresh your brain, that’d be okay too. I’ll wake you if there’s something important.”

  “Naps don’t count. I have to sleep long enough to dream, I think. At least, that’s what I’ve noticed.”

  I drummed my fingers on my knee.

  “Speaking of. What you said reminded me of something I read in relation to vat-grown humanoids and intelligence,” Jamie said. “Structuring, prioritization…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’m thinking about it. Give me a second.”

  While Jamie thought, I craned my head around, looking at the sheer number on the ground.

  “My predecessor wrote that Helen mentioned the vat-baby intelligence guidelines to you, which might have even been the foundation of that whole list of approaches you just came up with. You did something similar with the first hand signs. Helen told you about the stuff I ended up reading, and there is a whole category you’re missing. You’re focusing on what drives him, right?”

  “Sure. Identity, psychology, the things that attach him to others, or others to him…”

  “But at his core, whether he’s Colby or the Devil, he’s still a living thing. He’s driven by other needs. Basic ones.”

  “I did actually think about that. Food, water, air, sleep… we can’t starve them out or dehydrate them. Smoking them out is possible, but I’m not sure about the method of deployment. Too reckless, too hard to contain to the right area, all with no guarantee it’ll work. That leaves his drugs. If he’s an addict, he’ll have his supply handled.”

  “Hm,” Jamie made a noise. Then he nodded. “Alright. Will keep thinking.”

  I leaned back. I was holding out hope that they would make a mistake, that they would send some key people out, and we could target those people. That wasn’t happening.

  Basic needs. Drugs, sleep, food, water. There were others. Bathroom needs.

  They had to go somewhere to use the bathroom. Was there a way to figure out where they’d go? Hot night like tonight, they’d be drinking to stay hydrated, which…

  …went back to basic needs.

  I thought for a moment.

  “We have an option,” I said. “You’re going to help me nitpick it. But we’re doing it while on the move. The faster we can set this in motion, the more effective it’s going to be.”

  “Got it,” Jamie said. He twisted in a bit of a funny way to avoid using his bad shoulder to get to his feet.

  “Where did we leave Noreen again?”

  “Just across the street. You’re more spry than I am. You want to go while I get down to the ground?”

  “Alright. First stop is the Witch, and I have a feeling she’ll want to come along.”

  ☙

  Noreen bristled. She wasn’t exactly angry or impatient. Those weren’t words that applied to her psychology. But there was… danger. I felt like I might get shot or stabbed if I got in her way or slowed her down, now that we were so close to what she wanted so badly.

  Close enough to see them, even. The Witch’s labs were situated in a factory, and all of the lights were on inside. Working all through the night.

  I gestured to Jamie. Gun. Noreen.

  “Noreen,” Jamie said.

  Silence.

  “We’ll need your gun.”

  “No,” she said.

  It caught me off guard. She’d been strangely accepting of Jamie on a base level so far. She’d listened to him in a way she only seemed to listen to Maurice. Maybe even more.

  “Do you want to march in there alone and open fire?” I asked. “Because you could have done that a long time ago, and you didn’t need our help to do it. But we’re working on something, and I can’t have you jeopardize that.”

  “You promised me her head, and you’ll deliver it.”

  “
Yes,” I said. “After. But for now she’s useful to us.”

  “She dies. She doesn’t get a chance to prove herself useful, or to postpone her death. You promised.”

  “I never promised when.”

  She turned on me. One hand went for the gun I’d given her. Jamie caught her wrist.

  “Let go of me,” she said.

  I saw her react to something I couldn’t see. Jamie let go of her wrist, and she raised her hands, holding them out to the sides, where we could both see.

  “Betrayal?” she asked.

  “No,” Jamie said. He divested her of the gun and used the back of his hand to pat her down, before taking a knife off of her. “But I know this is the only way you’ll listen.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Noreen,” I said.

  She made a sound of dismissal.

  “I imagine the Witch won’t recognize you on sight?”

  “Answer him,” Jamie said.

  “No. She probably doesn’t remember me.”

  “Which makes it worse,” I said.

  I saw a slight gesture from Jamie. Warning me off that course.

  He’d avoided forming a rapport earlier. Was that the trick? She had a set idea of who and what I was, and she had an idea of who she was, and if I tried to connect, she would dismiss it as an impossible bridge to cross and then reject me.

  “If she doesn’t remember you, that’s fine. All three of us are going to go in there. You’ll do nothing unless I ask you a question or signal that you should speak. After that, you’ll get what you want. Got it?”

  She gave me a tight nod.

  “Good.”

  I let Jamie handle her while I approached the door.

  No guards. No watching eyes, either.

  I leaned close and pressed my ear against the door, listening to the murmur of conversation within. I kept my ear where it was as I knocked, firmly and loudly.

  I could hear the conversation inside stop.

  A woman’s voice.

  I drew my gun, and I pointed it against the door.

  The door swung inward, and I put the gun against the stomach of the Witch, who had opened it.