Ascent: Second Book of the Nameless Chronicle

by M. T. Miller

  “That settles it, then.” The sheriff rose, extending his hand. “Welcome to the Cleanup Crew, Mr. Terror!”

  The Nameless did the same, and they shook.

  “That leaves my question unanswered,” Divine said, still seated along with the remaining three.

  “I am not good with… things,” the Nameless said after letting go of the sheriff’s hand. Having noticed the way everyone was looking at him, he proceeded to elaborate. “There is a sizeable square thing in my new apartment. I do not know how to work it. And although I can turn the room lights on and off, I am absolutely perplexed about the way they work. Frankly, I find more or less everything around me strange.”

  “What are you, an exile from a hippie commune?” Uncle said.

  “You know, my parents were hippies,” Divine said.

  “And I bet they’d be real proud of you!” Uncle grinned.

  “So,” the Nameless raised his voice. “Does anyone have any other questions?”

  “I do,” Eagle said. Everyone looked at him. “Are you hungry?” He pointed to the table.

  “Right, the welcoming feast,” the sheriff said. He planted himself firmly down on his chair and grabbed a fork. “Dig in, Terror! This one’s for you!”

  Already I regret letting them call me that. It sounds absolutely ridiculous, the Nameless thought as he sat. Having received only a tasteless porridge-thing in the hospital, lunch was like a gift from the heavens. Then, as the covering came off the pots, he lost his appetite immediately.

  “Where is the meat?” he said, staring at the fruits and vegetables that invaded the table.

  “Meat?” Divine looked at him in disgust. “Oh, right. Lower kitchen. Forgot about it.”

  “You won’t find any here,” the sheriff said. “The third floor only serves good food, and I’m afraid that the crap from downstairs doesn’t qualify.”

  “The chicken was quite tasty, I assure you,” the Nameless said. “As was the beef, for that matter.” As he spoke, Divine almost gagged.

  “The spices make it that way,” the sheriff said. “Without them, it’d be like chewing on paper.”

  So that explains it… the Nameless thought. “And why is that so?” he asked.

  “It’s all brought up on the gruel we make in our labs,” the sheriff said. “Seems to work perfectly. The cattle grow large in no time at all, and the stuff is dirt-cheap to make. But… the meat is somewhat lacking. In both taste and nutrients. So we have to spice it up.”

  “And is everyone in Babylon eating this meat?” the Nameless asked. “Other than the third floor tenants, of course.”

  “No. Not everyone in Babylon,” the sheriff said, sticking his fork into a piece of carrot. The rest of the Crew followed his example. “Everyone in the wide area surrounding what was once the state of Nevada.”

  The Nameless was speechless.

  “Oh, don’t be so surprised.” The sheriff took a bite of his carrot. “Trade is the lifeblood of any nation. Everyone needs food, and food that’s lacking is better than no food at all. We’ve found a way of feeding everyone, and profiting in the process. This is a good thing, no matter how you look at it.”

  The Nameless kept staring at the plants before him. I can stare at this forever, and I will still need some meat. He lifted his fork, stabbed a piece of broccoli with it, and chewed it up.

  “Good, huh?” the Grin said, showing everyone his namesake before helping himself to a piece of fruit.

  “And where do you get these… plants?” the Nameless said, randomly stabbing something else.

  “As I’ve said before, trade,” the sheriff said. “Everything is connected, and Babylon is at the center of it all. You should eat.”

  “I think I need something that was once alive,” the Nameless said, causing everyone to stop eating.

  “You can’t be serious,” Divine said.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Look, you miss meat,” Uncle said, still chewing. “So did I. I loved me a good burger. But that stuff… it’s gone. What they have downstairs doesn’t come close. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Why? Will it kill me?” the Nameless asked.

  “It shouldn’t,” the sheriff said, “but you’ll probably get weaker with time.”

  “I think I will take my chances,” the Nameless said as he ate another piece of vegetable, then lowered his fork near the plate.

  “I guess we can’t force you to eat at your own dinner,” the sheriff said. He took the red bottle. “Care for some wine, then?”

  “On an empty stomach?” The Nameless smiled. “Of course I would.”

  ***

  They even gave me my revolver back, along with a pile of bullets, the Nameless thought as he left his new apartment. More than anything else, he wanted to relax within its walls. However, there were things that had to be done. Needs of both body and soul.

  First food, then a life.

  Aside from the gun, he did not bring any other weapons. There were a lot of stops to cover, and walking around with a spiked chain strapped to his body was all kinds of uncomfortable. The only other thing he carried was a brick-sized paper bag.

  “Ahoy there,” he said to the pair of guards the sheriff had introduced him to. As they greeted him back, his gaze drifted toward the glass wall.

  Why does my new home lack a view? he found himself asking. Funny how quickly one’s appetites grew. The day before, he’d had no view at all. Who knows, one day I might even start eating their plants, he jested, knowing just how improbable that was.

  A woman passed him by. Middle-aged, she nevertheless seemed more vibrant than anyone he’d seen downstairs, especially the people living on the higher sub-floors. He wondered what she did for a living, but decided not to stop and ask.

  Within minutes, the Nameless reached the elevator hall. Pristinely white and decorated with what looked like brass, the elevator seemed to invite him in with its doors still closed.

  “I wish to go down,” he said.

  “Be our guest,” a guard said. “You have your pass?”

  “Of course,” the Nameless said as he reached for it.

  “No need, no need. You’ll just need it to get back up, is all,” the guard said, moving aside. The large doors opened practically at the same time.

  “Enjoy your trip, citizen,” another guard said.

  “Thank you,” the Nameless said as he stepped inside. I think that this time I just might.

  The doors shut, and the lift went down. On his way, the Nameless thought about the time he’d spent with the Cleanup Crew. They seemed to know each other well and, despite their jokes, appeared to be used to working together. Perhaps with time, he would enjoy a shred of that respect.

  Not that if matters if I do not, he thought as the doors opened. The familiar scent of sweaty bodies and unwashed clothes hit him immediately. Not exactly happy to be there, he greeted the familiar guards, passed them by, and went for the food stands.

  It took him well over half an hour to get his order, but he knew that it was more than worth it. Someone recognized him from the fighting pits, but he denied being the man. After all, was he not mutilated beyond recognition? After shoving his way toward the apartment complex, he approached the staircase.

  “One,” he said as he handed the guards their chips.

  “You sure seem to love the view, Mr. Bones,” one of them said, giving the Nameless his half-pass. “Ever thought about, y’know, actually getting a place there? It’ll save you money in the long run.”

  “I will think about it,” the Nameless said. His way clear, he proceeded up.

  Torres. Unlike the apartments at the base of the floor, these actually had nametags. Standing in front of his former manager’s door, the Nameless knocked.

  “The scary man!” Patricia said the moment she laid her dark eyes on him. “Dad! It’s for you!”

  “You sure of that, honey?” David said, in an audible hurry. “Because I don’t think we’ll be see—Ho
ly hell, Bones!” In his leisure clothes, he shouted at the sight of the Nameless, immediately leaping in front of the little girl.

  “I have succeeded, David,” the Nameless said. Slowly, he lifted two paper bags. “I bring a peace offering, among other things.”

  “Quality dental work,” David said, pushing his daughter to go into another room. “How?”

  “Explaining will require way too much talk,” the Nameless said. “May I come in?”

  “That depends. You aren’t a vampire, are you?”

  “That… is a life-draining creature, yes?”

  “From mythology, right,” David grinned awkwardly. “It was a joke, Bones. Come in. Nice suit, by the way.”

  “Thank you,” the Nameless said as he proceeded inside, closing the door behind him. Who knows? I might actually be one.

  To the right of the entrance, the corridor led to a room. It was well furnished, but somewhat unordered, something he never expected out of Torres.

  “Sit anywhere you like,” David said as he pulled a chair from the table and let himself rest.

  The Nameless did the same, placing one bag on the table.

  “What’s that?” David asked.

  “Food from the third floor,” the Nameless said. “Fruit and vegetables. Mostly for your daughter, but you can help yourself as well. I brought my own.” He opened the other paper bag, pulling out a packed portion of beef.

  “Been up there, as well?” David exhaled. “So, what else did you do? Talked to God, perhaps? Asked him what this is all about?”

  “Not yet,” the Nameless said as his hand disappeared inside his coat. A moment later, he produced a small, black pouch, and let it drop right next to David. “I did get this, however. For your trouble. I hope you do not regret placing your faith in me.”

  Confused, David took the pouch, opened it, and let its contents pour out. As three green chips hit the table, his jaw practically touched it as well.

  “You…” His eyes shone with traces of little tears. “You weren’t full of bullshit after all.” He dragged his sleeve across his face, still hesitating to look directly at the Nameless. “I don’t know what to say, Bones. I really, really don’t.”

  “And you do not need to,” the Nameless said. “I have wronged you, David. In this, I pay back what I took, and more. You can also keep the chips Jake is sending you. And if it is somehow not enough, there might be more on the way.”

  “No,” David said. “This is more than enough. With some luck, I should be joining you up there soon enough. Along with Patricia, of course.”

  “I am glad,” the Nameless said. He was just about to dig into his meal, when he remembered something. “How are the others doing? Max, Andrea, Al… Turtle?”

  “Beats me,” David said. “It’s not like I had a whole lot of time to keep up on the news, with this whole circus you’ve been pulling. I know that Max is taking a break, which makes your not-so-little contribution even more important. The others, I haven’t heard from. Not that I heard a lot from them in the first place.”

  “I see,” the Nameless said, staring at his beef.

  “Go ahead, eat,” David said. “You seem famished. I’ll talk.”

  The Nameless bit into his food immediately.

  “I’ve checked on that junkie, though. She’s on the rise. I’d like to put a stop to it somehow, but there doesn’t seem to be a way. Back in the old days, juicing was illegal. In today’s cages, nothing is.”

  “Why do more fighters not do it, then?” the Nameless said in-between bites.

  “Because there aren’t many good chemists anymore. The stuff that our current quacks mix will kill you pretty damn quickly. It’s not worth it. Apparently, Rush somehow found herself a good one.”

  “On the third floor?” the Nameless asked, still munching.

  “Where else? With those skills, he must be living like a god,” David said. “After all, not everyone is stupid enough to major in business.” He smiled.

  “I am not certain that I follow you.” The Nameless set his meal aside. He had eaten too fast, and his stomach was starting to hurt. He would finish it later. “You are referring to yourself, yes?”

  “Damn straight I am!” David said. “Degrees in economics, finance, and management kind of drop in value with no corporate structure to support them.”

  I have no idea what he is talking about, the Nameless thought. To hide his ignorance, he took another bite.

  “My old man, the boxer… he insisted that I never fight,” David continued. “Taught me guns but told me never to use them. Forbade me from getting into any sports. Said he was taking a beating for both of us. And he did… right to the very end.”

  “What happened?” the Nameless asked after a couple seconds of silence.

  “Patricia was born after the world went to hell,” David said. “We joined a commune; they were much more frequent back then, as the Skulls weren’t as big. That was about to change. Starting with us.

  “The raid was… to say that it was horrible would be a gross understatement. They hit us in the middle of night, cutting and shooting down everyone they could find. There was still enough ammo to go around back then, and fuck me if they didn’t use it all up on us. Anne…” He cringed. “My wife, I saw her drop. Dad grabbed a shotgun, told me to take Patricia and run with the other noncombatants. I like to think that his sacrifice made the difference, you know? Made it so we successfully reached this place.” He wiped his eyes once more. “But to be frank, I’m not certain. Nothing is certain in these times, Bones.”

  The Nameless stopped eating. “I am sorry, David.”

  “It’s not like it’s your fault,” David said, his composure back. “Anyway, I didn’t want to unload on you like that. I guess you really took me by surprise.”

  The Nameless wanted to unload as well. Telling his secrets to David—if there ever was a moment for it, this was it. But would it be smart? No, of course it wouldn’t. The man had his own set of obligations. And I have my own.

  “I reckon I did,” the Nameless said, smiling. “No need to apologize for anything, David. After all, what are friends for?”

  “Is that what we are, Horace?”

  “Why would we not be?” the Nameless said. “And please, call me Bones.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Welcome, citizen!”

  The guards greeted the Nameless as he returned to the third floor. Freshened up from his visit to the slums, and with one less bullet in his revolver, he exited the lift and wondered where to go next. According to the clock built into the wall above, it was still afternoon; plenty of time to kill before turning in for the night.

  He looked down at his muck-covered shoes. I wish I had taken a different suit down to base level. No matter. I will have it cleaned up.

  “What is there to do up here?” he asked, turning toward a guard.

  “That depends on what you’re interested in,” the man said.

  “And what exactly does that mean?”

  “Plenty. But since you’re being vague, I’ll assume you’re asking where the drinks are.”

  “That is a start.”

  “I’m sure it is,” the guard said. “The closest place you can find is called Passing Through. It’s some thirty seconds of walking to your left. But it’s more of a walk-by sort of thing. If you want to sit and relax with a view, on the other hand…”

  “A view would be perfect, yes.”

  “Then you turn around and proceed straight. There will be a glass door at the end of your path. Café Heaven, the place is called, you can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you,” the Nameless said.

  “All in a day’s work,” the guard said.

  Interesting how civil they are up here, the Nameless thought as he turned around. Some five minutes of walking later, he found exactly what he was expecting: a glass door, along with a reflective sign above. Written on it was the café’s name.

  This is an apartment, he thought. He had expected
something more similar to the food stands downstairs. Instead, someone had apparently taken a home and turned it into a place of business. He considered knocking, but the sight of people sitting inside changed his mind. Curious, the Nameless grabbed the knob and stepped in.

  It might have been an apartment, but whoever had redecorated it had done an amazing job. From the inside, it was the most luxurious place the Nameless recalled visiting. The bar was made of lacquered, ochre-colored wood, and the woman tending to it seemed like a person anyone would want to befriend. The tables were made of glass, as was the wall opposite the entrance. This final feature was perhaps the most distinguishing one, because it meant that everything bathed in the light of the afternoon sun.

  I think I am going to like it here, the Nameless thought, a mere moment before his assumption fell apart. Even though the café was half-full, he noticed a distinctive pair of patrons immediately. By the window, sitting next to each other, Divine and the Grin enjoyed their beverages. As befitting a pair of professional killers, their eyes turned toward him the moment he stepped in. Deducing that they didn’t want him close by was not difficult at all.

  It was for that exact reason that the Nameless chose the table right next to them.

  “What do you want?” the Grin wasted no time in asking.

  “A drink,” the Nameless said as he took a menu sheet and scanned it.

  “You could have sat anywhere else,” Divine said. “We’d like some privacy.”

  “Then I suggest not going to a public place,” the Nameless said.

  The Grin was about to say something, but the waitress came over.

  “What’ll be your order?” she asked with a smile. She was short, but filled out in all the right places, with a head of glossy black hair.

  “Coffee,” the Nameless said. “Strong.”

  “Coming right up!” she exclaimed, practically dancing her way to the counter.

  “You were saying?” the Nameless said.

  “Not much, only that you’re an asshole,” the Grin said. “First you don’t want to eat with us, then you ruin our moment. Worse, you stink up the whole place like a goddamn skunk! Where’ve you been? The slums?”