Karma City

by Gardener Browning

  Jameson snatched the shotgun and snickered. “You know I can’t shoot you now.”

  “Don’t want all those guards to know you’re up here, do you?”

  “What do you want, Gemni?”

  “You know my name! I’m honored.” Gemni leaned closer and sniffed the air around Jameson. Rain dripped from his pointy nose. His yellow-white hair clung to his face and neck making him look like a storm-soaked scarecrow. “What are you called—this creature before me with blood unlike any other?”

  “Don’t trouble yourself over the name of your executioner.”

  “How predictably arrogant. I would very much enjoy finishing our little scrap and killing you tonight; however, to your incalculable fortune, the timing is not right. I am a very busy man, you see.”

  “You’ve come to spy on Marcus Graves. Malady versus Malad-X.”

  “Ah, good. Professor Crimm informed you of the warring sides of science in Karma City.” He paused in thought. “Being a would-be champion of mankind, you’ve come to investigate Graves as well. Perhaps you and I should not be in opposition during this war, this race for the domination of humanity.” The words rolled from his pale lips like the hiss of a Void Land viper.

  Jameson’s honed survival instincts crackled in his core like the garble of incomprehensible radio waves. There was enough about this altercation, a certain inaudible signal that warned of Gemni’s volatile intentions. He tucked his shotgun into his pack with one hand and unclipped the knife hanging from the back of his belt. Jameson Shoals never ignored the possibility of a trap. He donned a false demeanor of temporary trust, letting his shoulder relax. Never look the wolf in the eyes. Back slowly away from the snake. “I’ve witnessed all I came to learn,” said Jameson softly. “It seems Graves’ Malad-X experiment is nearing perfection. Malady is going to lose the war, Gemni. You are going to lose. See for yourself.” Jameson’s ears remained focused on the group of armed guards and his eyes panned the stormy sea for any sign of Luna and the boat. “I’m sure our paths will cross again. When they do, we’ll finish our ‘little scrap.’” He shoved past Gemni, one hand holding the roof for balance, the other secretly hovering over the handle of his knife. As hoped, Gemni turned his attention to the window and leaned to peer inside at the horrors going on in the warehouse.

  Jameson seized his chance.

  He pulled the knife, coiled his strong arms around Gemni’s neck and pressed the sharp blade under his chin. Gemni spun, pulling Jameson’s elbow into him and hurling him over his shoulders. Up and over Jameson tumbled, crashing through the warehouse and falling to the wooden deck. Glass and lengths of wood fell over him. Head spinning, he looked up for Gemni, expecting him to pounce in on the lab technicians and infected prisoners, but he was gone. The scientists scurried away from Jameson with files and briefcases under their arms. The caged people cried out for freedom. The guards ran for Jameson with guns drawn. Son of a bitch! Jameson rolled on his shoulders, sucked in a breath, and forced himself to his feet. The impact of the fall still reverberated through his limbs.

  “Stay where you are,” shouted a guard.

  Not a chance, asshole!

  Seconds later, gunfire erupted. Rounds whizzed past Jameson’s head.

  He looked to the black water in the center of the room and dove in. The bullets ripped through surface, tearing his pants and grazing his leg. He winced as he swam under the warehouse, hoping to the reach the outer perimeter of the ocean. Through the blackness of the stirring water, he kicked and groped until, at last, he met a wooden support beam holding up the building and surrounding docks. He reached up and climbed from the water to perch under the planks of the boardwalk. There on the crossbeams of a piling, hidden and soaked, he calculated his chances for survival. Something caught his eye, something bulky hanging from the dock. My pack! Everything is dry in there! He pulled open the bag and searched its contents for the prize he’d scored at Eden. Lovers’ Claw.

  The guards searched for him on the deck above. He could hear their yells. “Find him! Get some light on the ocean!”

  Flashlight beams scanned the waves. Jameson stayed very still.

  “No sign of him.”

  “Search the other side.” The guards ran off.

  Jameson hurried with his work, quickly twisting the length of Lovers’ Claw and fraying an end with his knife. He dug out his lighter and lit the frayed end of the root. He fanned it to flame and tossed it upward to the surface of the dock. After counting a full minute, giving the burning plant time to lay down a cloud of toxic smoke, he shouted, “I’m over here! I surrender!”

  The guards hurried to investigate. He listened to their cautious shouts. “Something’s burning! Stand back!”

  They coughed uncontrollably and soon, Jameson heard their bodies collapsing to the planks above. From out at sea, a gurgling rumble sounded. The speedboat! More shots rang out, this time from the distant ocean. Jameson recognized the sharp bang of Luna’s rifle. Guards dropped into the water around him. She’s good. Time to go.

  Jameson secured his gear and leapt back into the water. A hail of enemy bullets hammered the ocean around him, fueling his strokes. Amid the dark waves, he couldn’t see the speed boat and wondered how they’d find him in the stormy water. He glanced up through the breaking of the waves to see the muzzle of Luna’s rifle lighting the night in flashes of fire.

  Luna called out to him, “Jameson?”

  Jameson pulled his face from the waves and yelled, “Luna!” He swam for his life, his chest heaving and burning. His muscles cramped as they fought against the raging storm and the weight of his soaked clothes.

  The boat’s spotlight fell over him.

  He reached up and felt a hand snatch hold of his wrist.

  Luna yelled over the boat’s loud motor, “I’ve got you! Pull up!”

  With the last of his strength, Jameson tugged his body upward. Luna pulled him into the boat as it skirted away from the docks.

  “So, this is what it feels like to pull someone from the water?” Luna joked.

  “I guess that makes us even.” He gave a playful smile of relief. “My boots are wet. I hate that.”

  Jameson told the group what he’d witnessed and of the unexpected altercation with Gemni. While horrified by such a grotesque operation, Albert suffered more with Gemni’s pledge that Professor Crimm was murdered. Luna remained glad for Jameson’s safe return and held her focus on the task at hand. She helped Jameson assemble the bomb, wanting more than ever to destroy the cruel scientist’s operations.

  Albert slowed the speed boat and brought the engine to an idle, letting the craft drift closer to the vessel. Jameson’s eyes scanned the ship’s towering hull. He heard a low hum and all of the vessel’s lights flickered off.

  Albert whispered, “Well, I guess the party’s over. Shall we come back in the morning?”

  Jameson replied, “Something isn’t right. The way the lights went out like that. Someone just pulled the plug.”

  A series of screams echoed over the sea, followed by several splashes. Jameson signaled to Luna. She peered through her night vision scope and reported, “We’ve got dead people in the water.”

  Jameson asked, “What are they wearing?”

  “Lab coats.”

  More screams and terrible shouts sounded from the main deck. Luna lifted her scope. “Unbelievable!”

  “What do you see,” Jameson asked.

  “The ship is full of scientists and civilians. The civilians are killing the scientists and throwing the bodies overboard. It’s a bloodbath up there!”

  “Get our boat as close to the ship as you can, doc.”

  “If you insist.” Albert angled the craft beside the ship’s hull. He shut down the engine and asked Jameson. “How are we getting aboard? We can’t climb the hull.”

  “No. But Kurt left us a lot of explosives. I’ll put a smaller bomb together and we’ll pop a nice hole in the side and crawl in.”

  Within minutes, Jameson fashione
d a second bomb. He wedged the charge against the hull and set the timer. Albert pulled their boat away from the ship. A moment later, an explosion ruptured the starboard hull, creating a large hole. They waited in the darkness of the ocean for the blast’s smoke to subside. The rain beat on the sea while sounds of murder raged from the vessel.

  Jameson tied the boat to a twisted shard of metal hanging from the blast hole and climbed in. He reached out to pull in Luna, who then helped Albert.

  They switched on their flashlights and examined the area. Fragments of furniture smoldered throughout the blown-out crew cabin. Their steps crunched over broken glass, splinters of wood and lengths of bent metal.

  Beyond the cabin, on the other side of the hall, another door had taken damage from their blast. Its hinges creaked as the door swung ajar. The sign above read: Laboratory 4-Incubation. A pale white light glowed from within. Jameson shoved the door open and led the others inside. He whistled in disbelief.

  A large cylindrical cistern, filled with a milky white liquid glowed and bubbled. Hoses and valves lined the cistern and trailed to various monitoring stations and computer terminals. Dead scientists slumped in their chairs. Jameson ordered Albert, “Check out the computer; see if you can tell us what’s going on here.”

  Albert approached an active terminal and moved aside the dead man in the chair. He hunched over the keyboard. “Give me a moment with this.”

  Jameson kept his eyes on the strange translucent liquid. He nudged Luna. “Looks kind of like a big lava lamp filled with snot.”

  Luna chuckled and continued her sentry post. “I doubt they’re crazy enough to be killing over snot, Jameson. You’re nasty.”

  After a flutter of keystrokes, Albert stepped away from the terminal. “We’re lucky our little explosion didn’t disturb this tank. It’s a vat of live Malad-X. The entries in the scientist’s observation log affirm this is one of two reservoirs. This brood is for shipment out of Karma.”

  “Where to?” Jameson asked.

  “The destination is not finalized. That explains why the ship is still anchored. The crew was probably awaiting final orders.”

  “You said one of two. Where is the other tank of Malad-X?”

  “The records do not specify.”

  Jameson shrugged. “I guess we blow this up and track down the other tank later. Come on.”

  As Jameson led the others deeper into the ship, screams of pain and terror pierced the darkness. Strange cackling and maniacal laughter made his grip tighten on his shotgun. He let out a slow breath to ease his nerves. Stay focused. “If we detonate the bomb at the fuel storage, this vessel will be obliterated. Should be in the engine room. Let’s make this quick and don’t let the infected get near you.”

  At these words, a bloody man rounded the corner and staggered into the hallway. His eyes wide with rage. “No more tests! No more!”

  He charged at Jameson.

  Jameson aimed his shotgun but the man barreled into him, shoving the weapon aside and pinning him to the wall. The collision knocked the bag of explosives to the ground. Jameson hooked the gun barrel around the man’s neck and pulled, twisting his head around his shoulders with a sickening crack. He dropped the body to the floor at his feet.

  Albert bent down and examined him. “He’s got needle marks all over his arms and bruising around his wrists. Poor man’s been a lab rat for a long time.”

  “We can call the coroner later,” Luna interrupted. “How about we do something about that?” She pointed to the bomb bag. A blinking yellow light pulsed.

  Jameson checked the bomb. “Shit! The timer’s active.”

  “And let me guess,” said Albert, “you can’t stop it?”

  “Don’t be an idiot. Of course I can stop it. That only happens in cheesy movies. I need to disconnect the detonator from the charge and timer. But it’s sensitive work and with all the infected roaming about, I don’t have time.”

  Albert sighed. “Perfect. How much time do we have?”

  “Nine minutes to get to the fuel storage and off this ship.”

  They moved deeper into the shadowy vessel, following signage and breaking open locked doors, until they reached the engine room. Pipes, valves and gauges tangled the area like an industrial jungle, joining tall electronics cabinets and monitoring stations. With the power outage, the giant engine laid still and quiet. Jameson positioned the bomb atop the fuel cistern. “Done. Luna, guide us back the way we came.”

  “Right. Stay close, guys.”

  The screams from the top deck continued to fill the halls. Corpses piled on the floor, lining the passages and cluttering the companionways. Some were scientists, others were captives. The stink of death turned the dark ship’s corridors into a stale and foreboding tomb. Jameson examined the dead faces as he passed. Fear and torment remained in their lifeless stares. He panned his light into empty cells used to hold test subjects. Streaks of blood and excrement stained the walls. Placards marked each cell with the occupants’ names.

  Luna stopped suddenly and called out to Jameson from ahead. “Better have a look at this.”

  A placard had fallen to the floor. A single name identified the test subject once imprisoned in the tiny cell nearby. Shoals.

  Jameson took up the placard. Touching the lettering of his last name, his thoughts clouded. He found no bodies in the cell. “I have to find him, Luna.”

  She checked her pocket watch. “There isn’t time.”

  “I have to!”

  “I said there isn’t time. We’re down to five minutes and the bomb blows.”

  “Listen, I want you to take Albert and get off the ship. I’ll—”

  “Don’t do this, Jameson.”

  “Dammit, Luna, please go!”

  “Not without you. We stick together.”

  Jameson remembered of the night they jumped from the train to the river and how tight he held her; she could have died from the fall. The shootout at the hospital and again in Undertown, and finally the lucky escape at Eden. All of this danger, all of this risk to her life, was because of his personal mission, his goal. Now the ship faced annihilation and this woman—strong, brave, beautiful and devoted to him more than he felt he deserved—stood again at the edge of the world with him, right on the thin line between life and death. He needed to find his father and whatever the cost to himself, he’d pay it. This last chance was his to gamble. He wanted her safe. No more risks to her. He stared into her eyes, hoping that she’d understand what he was about to do. “I’m sorry.” I can’t let you follow me. I can’t let you die for this. He struck her in the face with his flashlight. Luna fell hard to the floor. Jameson slipped away, rushing deeper into the surrounding darkness in search of his father.

  He kicked open the door to the main deck, shotgun in hand, and entered the carnage. Mobs of enraged captives in tattered clothing swarmed around the last two surviving scientists. Jameson opened fire, shooting two of the infected in the head. This frightened the others. The captives parted, recoiling like a pack of startled wolves. The scientists hurried to Jameson.

  “Whoever you are, thank you! Please get us off this ship!”

  Jameson took a step back and examined their faces. Dark circles encased their beaded, marble eyes and their shallow cheeks cast deep shadows over their jawlines. Each man had colorless lips and arched, paranoid eyebrows. Malady. All of the scientists have Malady. That’s why the Malad-X test subjects are killing them. Infected against the infected. He reloaded. “Where’s the captive named Eric Shoals?”

  “I-I don’t know!”

  “Don’t fuck with me!” Jameson shouted and pressed the muzzle to the man’s forehead.

  “H-he’s holed up the chief scientist’s lab. He’s the primary test subject.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s something special about his blood. The Malady parasite doesn’t live in him for long. Shoals has got some kind of resistance.”

  “Where is this lab?”

  The scientist po
inted to an open doorway across the deck. “That passage will take you up two levels. The lab is in the forward office. Now please help us!”

  “You’re still alive. Help yourselves.”

  Both scientists twitched and snapped in a Malady fit of panic. Their sickness spurred their aggression. They attacked, screaming with frenzied eyes. Jameson fired, killing both men.

  Out of ammunition, all he could was run. Through the passage and up the stairwell, he then sprinted down the short hall to the forward office lab. His shoulder broke open the door. A gray-haired man with a tangled beard spun to face Jameson. A long syringe, filled with the same strange liquid Jameson had seen in the lab, jutted from the man’s shaking hand.

  “Stay back!” shouted the old man. “You’ve come far enough!”

  Jameson squinted through the shadows, struggling to determine the man’s identity. “I’m looking for Eric Shoals?”

  The man shivered and with his free hand, wiped a line of mucus from under his nose. “I’m Eric. Stay where you are!”

  Jameson’s heart ached.

  At long last he’d found his father.

  This weathered, beaten, hunched over man with warped eyes, broom-handle neck and frame of bones had once been his mighty hero. Jameson’s mouth went dry and his voice cracked. “I’m your son. Do you remember me?”

  The old man’s frightened eyes widened. He stepped closer. The hand holding the syringe shook. He cocked his head to one side as he studied Jameson.

  “Dad, it’s me. Jameson.”

  The man’s face carved to a smile. “Jamie.”

  Tears welled in Jameson’s eyes. “Whatever they’ve put you through, it’s over now. I’m here to save you. Come with me. We don’t have much time.” He put out his hand.

  Eric shrieked and jumped away. “Stay back!”

  Malady had run its course, transforming his father to nothing more than a skittish, volatile lunatic. Jameson felt his anger set fire to his heart. The fire dried his tears. He pointed his unloaded weapon at this father. “I won’t lose you again, understand? You’re coming with me!”