Smoke Eaters

by Sean Grigsby

  Naveena said, “It doesn’t even look like the same place.”

  Heaping mounds of cinders lined both sides of the street. They didn’t even resemble houses or lawns or the backyard playgrounds kids would play on when ash clouds weren’t flying in on the wind.

  “Didn’t you guys come out for more scalies in this area?” I asked.

  “No, we wouldn’t,” Naveena said. “After they evacuated everyone and taped it off, this neighborhood was left to its own destruction.”

  “Not enough manpower or time to battle all the dragons that would have emerged after that day,” Renfro said. “Safer and cheaper. An egg-crushing crew should have hit this place though. Unless they were busy.”

  “Busy?”

  What a shitty way to operate. I understood why. It just sucked that all of those people, who were minding their own business and trying to live a decent life in these terrible times, had to suffer and lose their houses because of one scaly on one bad day.

  “You know,” I said, “when I was a fireman, we used to lead these fire safety classes and would tell citizens that going back into a house when it was on fire wasn’t worth it, that it was just a house, you could replace it. I don’t know if I believe that anymore.

  “I mean, a house – a home – becomes a part of you. It’s almost like looking in a mirror when you pull up to your place after a long day. It’s where you eat and sleep and fuck. You fill it with junk, sure, but I think you also nail a piece of yourself to the walls along with all of the family photos and paintings.”

  “You’re getting too deep for me, Brannigan.” Renfro laughed. It had the deep thrum of a bass guitar.

  Naveena looked back at me. “I stay at headquarters, remember?”

  “Stop here,” I told Renfro. “This is it.”

  There was no house for me to recognize – just more and more ashes – but I remembered the house being in the groove where the road curved, and the legion of cracks in the driveway now revealed after the cannon truck’s exhaust had blown cinders off the pavement.

  Don’t be out here, Theresa, I thought.

  “Now what, Brannigan.” Naveena said.

  “We look for a wraith.”

  “Do you even know how to work that remote?” she asked.

  “How hard could it be? It only has two buttons.” One was red and the other black. I wished I’d finished watching that Professor Poltergeist video.

  The ashes crunched under my boots when I exited the truck. Renfro stayed where he was. I was glad he kept the engine purring, scared of what I wouldn’t hear if he’d shut it off. The silence would be deafening.

  “So we’re going to split up?” Naveena asked as she came around the front of the truck with a flashlight.

  “Don’t even play with me right now,” I said. “You aren’t leaving me alone out here, and we’ve only got the one wraith-catcher.”

  She smiled and abandoned the safety of the truck’s headlights. I took a deep breath and followed her to where the house used to be.

  The neighborhood looked like a graveyard, where the ash heaps resembled freshly covered graves. The ash pile straight ahead had a big hole dug into it, as if something had been living inside. Or still was. I tensed my right arm, ready to extend my laser sword. It was hell enough to think of finding a wraith out here. A dragon on top of that? No, thank you.

  “I called you the Angel of Death,” I told Naveena, just a little louder than a whisper.

  “What?”

  “Before I knew what your name was. I called you the Angel of Death. Or just Angel for short.” I laughed like a nervous little boy.

  “Look at this,” Naveena said, she and her flashlight disappearing into the ash hole.

  “Get away from there,” I said, too late.

  I poked my head into where Naveena had jumped.

  Ten feet below, she shone her light on a bunch of blood-red egg shells about the size of her head. They lay in broken pieces, and several small holes had been burrowed into the ground.

  “Don’t expect me to come down there.” My voice echoed within the ashen chamber.

  “Shut up,” she said.

  “Sorry, I’m just trying to–”

  “No, shut up. I hear something.”

  I shut up and listened. Behind me, a croak killed the silence. It sounded like the slow close of an old, whiny door mixed with a growling rat.

  That’s when I spotted the glow, an eerie white light that throbbed from around another ash pile behind me. The croak-growl grew louder.

  “Fuck me,” I mumbled.

  The wraith floated into view, staring straight up as if it had been lobotomized. I placed a hand against my mouth so I wouldn’t curse or scream. My first instinct was to run away all assholes and elbows, but I couldn’t leave Naveena.

  I quickly changed my mind about catching a wraith. This thing could just float off into the dark somewhere else, unaware of our presence, and then Naveena and I could hop back into the truck and forget this whole, stupid idea.

  Naveena power jumped from the hole and landed beside me.

  The wraith snapped its head toward us and raised its claws.

  I’d always avoided placing myself in situations to get a really good look, but wraiths, while all having the distinct odor of burnt flesh and the color of bird shit, do look different from one another, slightly resembling their former, living selves.

  This was Theresa’s wraith, fulfilling what I’d feared. And she was pissed.

  Spreading its mouth wider than humanly possible, Theresa-wraith shrieked over sharp crooked teeth that bled white energy from the tips.

  It zoomed for us.

  “Fuck!” I ran with all I had, ignoring the pain from my burns as I loped across the ashes.

  Naveena ran the other way, as the wraith singled me out to chase. Maybe I looked older and slower.

  I zigged and zagged to fake out Theresa’s ghost. I even hit my power jump to gain some distance, sailing over another of the ash mounds, but the wraith was too damn fast, and the jump was a waste as the wraith quickly closed the distance between us.

  “Brannigan,” Naveena said over my radio. “You’re going the wrong way, you idiot.”

  “Great,” I said to no one but the dark.

  Seeing no other option, I released my laser sword and spun on the wraith, slashing with a big, diagonal wave of my arm as Theresa-wraith reached for me with both of its claws. When the laser made contact, the wraith dispersed into a shower of radiated dust.

  “Damn right,” I said with a victorious laugh. I wanted to puke from the still-present wraith smell, an odor too much like charred and moldy hotdogs.

  Then the glowing wraith particles began gathering together again, croaking out an angry growl as one, ghostly choir.

  I looked around for the cannon truck’s lights, but the glow of the quickly reforming wraith was the only illumination, and everything else was just darkness. So, I ran for the darkness.

  “Cast,” I said into my helmet. “I’m lost out here!”

  “Stay where you are and we’ll come get you,” Renfro said.

  Naveena cut in. “He can’t stay still. He’s got a wraith after him. Brannigan, keep it away from you, I’m coming.”

  Sure, that’d be easy. I kept running into the night.

  “Why don’t you use that wraith-catcher?” Renfro said.

  I’d completely forgotten about the remote in my hand. I guess a dead friend returning to eat your face, kind of removes normal thinking.

  Slowing my steps, I looked behind me. The wraith’s claws slashed and scraped against the chest of my power suit, leaving jagged grooves in the metal. The grooves burned with white fire.

  I ignored the flames and pointed the remote. “Eat this you mother–”

  The ground disappeared beneath me. I fell into even more darkness, swallowed by ash. When I met solid ground, I rolled a few times until I lay on my back. I sat up and spit out wads of cinders. Once that taste, and actual char, enters
your mouth, it never completely leaves.

  Sticky gunk covered my power suit, smelling like a raw omelet. My hand moved against what sounded like crunchy shards. I’d landed on a nest of unhatched eggs.

  Above, the wraith appeared at the edge of the ash hole. It screamed even louder when it saw what I’d done to the eggs. As the wraith descended toward me, undead shreds of clothing flapped in its wake. The ash even parted a little.

  The wraith-catcher. Where was it?

  It had flown from my hand at some point during my fall. I dug through the ashes around me, searching and finding nothing. The wraith’s stench thickened and its shriek grew louder. I was well and truly fucked.

  The wraith’s glow cast my shadow across the ashes in front of me, and that’s when I noticed the small, dark shape lying a few feet away.

  The wraith swiped at me again as I scrambled forward. This time Theresa-wraith took a chunk from the back of my power suit. I heard metal skitter across the ash. When I grabbed the wraith remote and flipped over, the ghost was on top of me, gnashing its teeth toward my face.

  I hit the remote’s red button, and a black energy beam blasted from the tip of the coil. It’s a strange thing to imagine, I didn’t even believe it as I saw it happen, but against the white radiance of Theresa’s wraith, a black laser wrapped around the ghostly torso and pulled the ghost into the remote with a short pzzt.

  It’s a surprise I didn’t crush the remote, because I kept mashing that red button even after the wraith was gone. I let go and looked at the wraith-catcher. A rounded rectangle on the side showed a single white light throbbing in the dark. Based on the amount of unlit squares, it looked like I had room to catch a shitload more wraiths if I wanted.

  “Brannigan!” It was Naveena. She pointed her flashlight into my eyes.

  “Watch where you point that thing,” I said.

  “Where’s the wraith?”

  I waved the remote. “Moved to a smaller apartment.”

  It took a couple of failed power jumps and even more spitting of ash dust, but I managed to climb out of the hole. “Remind me to tell the propellerheads to install GPS in our suits.”

  “Most of us aren’t so dumb we can’t find the truck.”

  “I had a wraith on my ass,” I said.

  Naveena pointed to the wraith-catcher. “So that thing really has a wraith in it?”

  “You bet your ass. I think I can still smell it.” I didn’t mention whose ghost it was.

  “Damn, Brannigan,” Naveena said. “You really did it.”

  We walked back to the truck, which wasn’t that far away – a knock to my pride and sense of direction. And while I was glad to have something to use against Rogola, all I wanted to do was get back to headquarters and sleep as long as I could.

  “We have to go,” Renfro said as we climbed into the truck.

  I groaned and leaned back into the headrest. “Don’t say it, man.”

  “Suck it up,” Naveena said, with exhaustion in her voice. She took the holo-reader from Renfro. “We’ve got a report of a Poisonous Pete at 3800 Broadway.”

  “You guys know it was Pete’s Dragon, right. The dragon’s name was Elliot.”

  They didn’t say anything, and it was just as well. I was going to try to get a few minutes of sleep on the way to fight yet another dragon. As a precaution, I secured the wraith-catcher in a bin before shutting my eyes.

  Chapter 29

  Donahue insisted I wear my dress greens to accompany him to meet with the police chief. I figured it couldn’t hurt.

  “So there’s no way that thing can get out?” Donahue nodded toward the wraith-catcher in my pocket as we walked toward the big, blue building.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “They had to have some way of putting the wraiths into TVs and stuff. The red button caught it. I don’t really want to hit the black button and find out. Know what I mean?”

  “Yes. Please don’t.”

  “So, you think we have enough evidence to put Rogola away?” I pulled at the tight collar of my uniform.

  Donahue nodded. “Police chief has the final say, but… hell yes, we do.”

  I remember when the police department used to have precincts all around the city. Now, the cops housed themselves in a singular building the same color as their uniforms. After E-Day, the police got to pick their new headquarters, and I guess they went all out in promoting the whole “blue” thing. We firefighters laughed at it, of course. They were trying to cut in on the same kind of romanticism firefighters had with the color red.

  Donahue and I crossed the street and came to the security shack at the front entrance. A droid stood behind the window, wearing an old school police hat on top of its chrome head.

  Donahue took a step back, flinching. “Where’s Murray, the regular guard?”

  “PCPD is here to serve you,” the droid said.

  “Damn.” I shook my head. “These metal bastards are taking everyone’s job.”

  “We’re here to see the police chief,” Donahue said. “I’m Chief Donahue with Smoke Eater Division.”

  “All appointments must be made prior to arrival.” The droid’s voice was emotionless. The eyes brightened and dimmed rhythmically under that stupid police hat.

  “No, I don’t have an appointment,” Donahue said. “I’ve never needed one before. I happen to be friends with the police chief.”

  “Chief, this thing is repeating scripted lines. Let’s just go in.” I didn’t understand why Donahue needed to explain himself to a walking rust bucket.

  “Please check in at the front office,” the droid said, following us with its glowing eyes as we moved away.

  “What in the world was that about?” Donahue asked under his breath, as we climbed the steps to the front door.

  I didn’t say anything, because I had no clue.

  Inside, things just got worse. The whole building was filled with droids. They bustled along corridors, around desks, carrying holo-readers and escorting a few people in handcuffs toward the cells in the basement. A particularly snarky-looking droid sat behind the big desk in front of us. A diagonal burn mark covered its face.

  “State your business,” the droid said.

  I noticed this one didn’t say “please.”

  “Where is everybody?” Donahue flexed his fists, sweat forming at his temples. “Where are all the cops?”

  “This is the Parthenon City Police Department headquarters, home to the first all-droid law enforcement agency in the country.”

  Another robocop brought in a distraught man with a black eye.

  “Help me,” the man said, so soft I almost didn’t hear him. “They’re taking over.”

  The droid behind the desk spun its head to the new arrival and said, “Holding.” Its head swiveled back to me and kept going around like it was possessed by demons, stopping again at Donahue after a few spins. “If you have nothing further, you may leave.”

  The man with the black eye began screaming, even though he didn’t struggle against the droid. He knew it was futile. Once the man was behind the corner, the screaming abruptly stopped, as if they’d entered a black hole.

  “I need to see Chief Feldman,” Donahue said. His frustration had dwindled a little, having seen a robot dragging a screaming man through the halls.

  All I could do was stand there and take in all the droids and the fact that the only humans in the building were under arrest. Besides Donahue and I.

  “There is no one here by that name,” the desk droid said.

  “Since when?”

  The droid’s eyes throbbed brighter.

  “What the hell are you droids up to?” Donahue raised his voice.

  The droid stood. “You may leave or be removed. You have thirty seconds.”

  I put a hand on Donahue’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Chief.”

  “No,” he said. “I want to know why a bunch of robots have replaced every cop in this town and I want to know where all the real people are!”


  I put my mouth to Donahue’s ear, although I wasn’t sure if it would prevent the droid from hearing. “We’re in the middle of a bunch of droids who have been programmed to act like cops. We don’t have power suits or anything else to defend ourselves.”

  A little color faded from his face, and his muscles relaxed. Nodding slowly, he turned for the door, picking up speed with every step. I wasn’t far behind. That whole place gave me the heebie-jeebies.

  “Have a nice day,” the droid called from behind.

  “In all my years–” Chief Donahue had one hand on the wheel and the accelerator to the floor. “–I’ve never seen anything like that! This city has gone to pot, and we thought the dragons were bad, but Brannigan, I’m telling you, nothing, nothing is worse than lazy people and technology. They’ve written our death certificates in the name of convenience.”

  He’d been yelling since we entered his command vehicle and were safely away from police headquarters. He was all over the road, and I was just glad the wasteland was devoid of traffic.

  “Technology is a tool, like anything else,” I said, when he finally took a breath from his tirade. “And if it’s in the wrong hands, it’s a pain in the ass for everybody else. Right now, the wrong hands belong to Rogola.”

  “We’ll storm city hall. Tear it down, brick by brick.”

  I couldn’t believe I was the sensible one in this conversation. “We can’t stage a coup. I know you don’t mean that. You’re just pissed, like me. But even if we were to go down there to kick ass and take names, Rogola is hiding somewhere else. We have to find out where.”

  “I sent Afu, Puck, and Williams to the mayor’s mansion,” Donahue said. “He wasn’t there either.”

  “So we have a mayor and a three-headed dragon both off our radar. They couldn’t make it easy and be hiding together could they?”

  Donahue smiled a little. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” He dropped the smile just as quickly as he spotted something ahead. “What is that?”

  Crowds of people surrounded Smoke Eater Headquarters, holding self-made holo-signs that floated in the air. As we sped closer, I saw a few of the signs said things like: Worse than Dragons! and SHIT Eaters Go Home! One bare-chested man had animated a drawing on his belly of a dragon fucking a smoke eater from behind.