New Dominion

by C. G Harris

  I wondered about the other items. Had they all been stolen as trophies? Were they sentimental, or did they have some unknown power like my locket? I decided it didn’t matter. Cleaning them out would likely bring down a wrath I wasn’t prepared to deal with, and for what, a bunch of trinkets I knew nothing about? I opened the glass door and reached inside to take my item back, nothing else. Having it in my hand gave me a rush of triumph. I took a second to revel in the feeling, then tucked the locket into my pocket and secured the door. With any luck, they would never notice it was gone.

  I stumbled as I rushed out of the office. If it weren’t for a captive Woebegone just outside the door, I would have sounded like a truck driving through a hubcap factory. He caught me through the bars, preventing a permanent dent in the middle of my forehead. When I peered into his eyes, my heart tore in half. There I saw the lost confusion of a freshborn. It was the same look Zoe had on her face the day I had saved her from a firestorm—and an eternity of ruthless torment.

  “Sir, can you please tell me where I am? I can’t seem to remember how I got here or ...” his eyes went blank with bewilderment and horror, “my name.”

  I stepped back, unable to tear my eyes away from the poor soul. If I had the means, I would free every last Woebegone in the place, war be damned. Zoe was right. Saving all these people would be worth it.

  I glanced around, wondering if I could find something to open the man’s cell. There were no keys in the office. Maybe the guards carried them on their rounds.

  That’s when it hit me. There were no guards to carry the keys. This had all been a walk in the park, save the atmosphere of misery and despair. Jonny had mentioned guards, but from the moment we had arrived, there hadn’t been a soul to stop me. This had all gone way too easy.

  My thoughts went to Zoe. I had left her alone at the rear door. I hadn’t heard a peep from her. Not even a whisper. That meant her part of the warehouse was as absent of guards as mine or ...

  I sprinted back the way I came, desperate to get to Zoe. The distance seemed twice as long as my way in, but I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as I rounded the corner to the rear section of the warehouse.

  Zoe stood next to the door, mask still a little askew on her head, but she was alone. As I got closer, Zoe stared at me, but something felt wrong. I slowed to a walk, narrowing my eyes as I went.

  “Everything okay?” I whispered.

  Zoe nodded her head in quick, little jerks not at all like her, then I realized her wide eyes were filled with fear. They flicked from me to the cages on my left and back again.

  Before I could react, the door flew open, and someone shot out, knocking me flat on my back. My assailant strolled over to me as several other cages opened and emptied as well. A Woebegone hurried over and took hold of Zoe while others surrounded us, blocking our retreat into the warehouse or out the back door.

  “Caught red handed in our very own warehouse.”

  The voice coming out from the darkness made the hairs on my neck stand on end. My cousin Franco. Which meant the bulldozer who had hit me was my cousin Charlie. Franco and Charlie ran the Wax Worx, and now they owned the Skin Quarries too. Suddenly, the sulfur pools sounded more and more like a cozy hot tub on a snowy day.

  Chapter Twenty

  Franco and Charlie had been my Topside nightmares, and now I was stuck in the afterlife with them too. Back in the days when I walked the world as an impressionable human being, my cousins had sunk their meat hooks into me and never let go. People were their business at that time too, only then they had shipped hapless immigrants to the U.S. with the promise of a better life. They never got one.

  My cousins had sucked me into their world, and by the time I realized what they were doing, I was in so deep I didn’t know which way was up. Turned out the direction I chose for all three of us was six feet under. I suppose we all got what we deserved. Problem was, after forty years in The Nine, they were back to their old tricks, and I was still the guy who put them here.

  Franco looked almost business-like in a navy, off the shelf suit and tie. It didn’t quite fit his hulking mass, but nothing ever had. The sleeves were a little too short, and the top button of his shirt was undone. But other than that, he’d fit right in at a traveling salesman seminar.

  He sauntered up behind Zoe and tore off her mask. Zoe’s blonde hair unknotted and fell to her shoulders as she shook her head in protest. She turned her glare on Franco’s meaty face.

  “Well, what do we have here? The prodigal daughter returns.” Franco’s cheeks almost turned jolly over his thick, red beard. “You, my dear, will make a fine attraction in our club from now on. I’ll be sure to cook up something special for you to perform for the audience.”

  Every muscle in my body shook with rage at the thought of Zoe being used as entertainment in the Wax Worx. It was the worst place I had ever seen—the worst place I had ever been. I would dive in the pools myself before I allowed Zoe or anyone else I knew to be tortured in that bloody circus.

  Franco turned his attention to me, and his face turned cold. “Shall we assume you are the one who thought he could take my property without permission?”

  He reached out and fondled a lock of Zoe’s hair, but she jerked her head away before he could do much more than touch it. Franco’s eyes went to my pocket, and without a word, Charlie snatched out the locket. He held it up in the air, then tossed it to Franco. He caught the necklace with ease and slipped it into his coat pocket, but Charlie kept his eyes on me.

  To look at them, you would think Franco was the muscle of the operation, all shoulders and meaty muscle, but Charlie was the one everybody feared. Small, quiet, and full of rage, he had the same tell-tale red hair as his brother, but his beard was scraggly and bare. He never dressed as well, always opting for jeans and some sort of hoodie, and he kept his hands in his pockets most of the time, as if unleashing them meant uncontrolled violence. One look at his eyes was enough to know Charlie was a killer. Not because it was his job, but because he enjoyed it.

  “It appears stealing from us is getting to be a habit for you. I guess I’m at a loss. I don’t even know your name.”

  It occurred to me that the last time I had seen them, I had used a Skin Shroud. A handy, little, one-time use gadget that allowed me to take on the appearance of someone else. I had torn their bar apart with my Whip Crack on that visit. Definitely one of my better days. It never dawned on me that they hadn’t identified the one who had done all the damage.

  Franco nodded to one of the stooges standing behind me. “Take off his mask. Let’s have a look at this Robin Hood, shall we?”

  I didn’t wait for his thug to lay a hand on me. My hand flew out of my pocket in a flash, and I landed a punch right on his sternum. My Knuckle Stunner dropped the guy so fast it looked like his bones turned to sludge.

  Charlie lunged in my direction, but I leveled the stunner at him. He would not be as easy to put down. In fact, I doubted I could land a hit at all, but I wouldn’t go out without a fight.

  “Stop.”

  Franco’s voice rang out above the impending chaos. Heaving breaths and adrenaline filled the air, but his authority was absolute.

  “You can’t believe you can win. We outnumber you at least twenty to one.” He motioned to the circle of Woebegone thugs who now surrounded us.

  I glanced over at the one lying on the floor. “Actually, I think it’s more like nineteen to two. Don’t underestimate my girl there.”

  Franco tilted his head at me. “Your trick with the Whip Crack won’t work here. I know your type. You might be willing to cut down a bunch of lowlife spectators at the Wax Worx, but you would never hurt an innocent. Open your eyes. We’re surrounded by them. Besides, if you had your little toy, I think you would have played that card by now.”

  My Whip Crack was another Hellion weapon I had obtained through my black-market connections. It was essentially a bullwhip crossed with a chainsaw. By far my favorite weapon when it came to dealing he
avy damage. Franco was right though. It would be useless in a place like this. The Whip Crack was a sledgehammer, not a scalpel. There were way too many innocents in here to get hurt.

  “She doesn’t need some toy to deal with a bunch of lards like you.”

  I stared at Franco, never blinking. I had known Franco for a long time. If he had one weakness, it was someone bluffing a challenge. He could not resist calling it. True to form, he took a step back and held out his arms.

  “Please, gentlemen, let her go. Let’s see what we’re missing.”

  The two goons holding her let out a sick laugh then threw her forward as they stepped back. Zoe stumbled ahead a few steps and stopped in the center of the ringed stooges. I stepped in as well, putting a little distance between me and Charlie.

  “By the way, I think you had your numbers wrong.” I made a show of counting on my fingers. “I think the odds are more like sixteen to four.”

  Franco let out a laugh and looked around. The others followed suit, echoing a low, cynical chuckle throughout the small crowd. The only one not laughing was Charlie. Somehow, he knew. He always knew. Charlie was already moving.

  Before the laughter could die, it was cut off by the tooth shattering sound of tearing metal. The exterior wall all but exploded open, and the three Woebegone standing there were cut in half.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Zoe and I dove for the door, or rather, the place where the door had been. The Whip Crack had torn it off the hinges when it had ripped through the wall from outside. I had seen a prying eye peeking through a crack in the very same doorway seconds earlier. I hoped that eye spotted the same thing I had; three very vulnerable goons standing carelessly close to the outside wall while Zoe and I remained safe in the center.

  Charlie must have spotted the eyeball interloper as well because he started moving almost before anything happened. He didn’t dive for me or Zoe though. He moved for Franco. Charlie grabbed hold of him and jerked his body free of the kill zone.

  To be fair, I’m not sure we would have been lucky enough to get him, but Charlie wouldn’t take any chances.

  As soon as we were outside, I saw Jazzy and Meg. Jazzy held my Whip Crack in hand, and Meg wielded a jagged piece of steel she had fashioned into some sort of machete-prison shank. I hit two more goons on our way out, putting them down with the Knuckle Stunner, and Jazzy mowed down two more as they sprinted out the door behind us.

  “I have never been so happy to be wrong.”

  “I told you they would come in handy if we got into trouble.” I didn’t take the time to glance at Zoe, but I knew she had a smug smile on her face. I would never live this one down.

  Jazzy turned over the handle to the Whip Crack, and I traded her my Knuckle Stunner so she wouldn’t be left empty handed. We only had seconds before the place vomited goons. It was stand and fight now or run and fight later. I didn’t need to see the others to know the show would happen right here.

  “Thanks for waiting until we were out of the way.”

  “You guys were close to the wall?”

  That was enough to make my knees sweat.

  I would have said more, but the rest of the goons chose that moment to come out of the warehouse in a rush. I snapped the Whip Crack out in a straight line, bisecting four of them before they could split up. Six more made it out. I left the three to my right for Jazzy and Meg to deal with while I made short work of the other three. Zoe was the only one without a weapon, so she stayed clear of the melee while I selectively removed portions of our attackers’ major anatomy. When I turned around, the other three were down as well. Two were unconscious, and one had a nasty looking stab wound in his lower right abdomen. He wasn’t dead but attacking wouldn’t be the first thing on his mind either.

  The sound of applause came from inside the warehouse. Franco came out clapping his hands, followed close behind by Charlie. He held something new in his hands, but I couldn’t quite make it out. Something long and thin, encased in oiled fabric. I was sure of one thing, if Charlie had it in his hands, it wasn’t good.

  “That was some real skill.” Franco put his hands down and surveyed the carnage. “To be honest, I thought you might not give us a fight. That would have been so disappointing.”

  I had moved out of range of the door during my fight with the other three goons, but I took a step in their direction, ready to close the gap. “By my count, there are still two standing.” Zoe, Meg, and Jazzy fell in behind me, closing ranks in case anyone decided to flank us from behind.

  Franco held up a hand. “I wouldn’t be so hasty. You may want to take a look around before you come charging in on the two of us.”

  As he spoke, Woebegone thugs appeared out of everywhere. The clearing we stood in was relatively large. If Woebegone drove cars, it would be a perfect parking lot. All around us, the ramshackle buildings and sheet metal shanties bristled with life. Everywhere we looked, a goon stood holding a piece of iron as a club or a sword. There were at least a hundred or more.

  Zoe leaned in and whispered close to my head. “How many do you think you can take with that thing?”

  “Before they dogpile us?” I did some quick math on my fingers. “Not more than twenty.”

  “At my best, I could never defeat more than ten.”

  I glanced at her. “Bad joke timing is my department. And since when do you do movie quotes?”

  “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

  “If you two are done flirting,” Meg snapped, “maybe we could talk about not dying here?”

  “That was not flirting,” I said. “Start inching for that opening.” I motioned toward a break in the buildings that the goons seemed to forget.

  “Yes, you were,” Jazzy answered. “And you better come up with more of a plan than that.”

  “We can’t beat them in a straight up fight, but we can cut our way through for a retreat. How’s that for a plan?”

  Franco and Charlie noticed our rearward movement and took a few steps in our direction. The rest of the goons moved as well, almost oozing toward us at the same speed we retreated, cutting off our escape.

  “After all this, you would just turn tail and run?” Franco chuckled. “You can’t believe all four of you will get out of here alive? I’m sure you can cut your way free with that toy of yours, but what about your friends? What chance do they have?”

  “Why don’t you come over here and see for yourself?” I said.

  Franco took another step toward us. “Big words from a man in a mask. Why don’t you show your face? Stand up to Charlie in a fair fight, and I will guarantee the safety of your friends. They can run along on their way, free and unharmed.”

  That made me pause.

  “Forget it,” Zoe hissed. “We’re not leaving you here to fight these goons. Besides, he’ll probably go back on his word the second you turn around.”

  Zoe was right. What incentive did he have to keep his promise? Plus, I still had my anonymity. They still didn’t know who I was.

  “Keep moving and be ready for an attack,” I said under my breath. “I’ll knock down the first wave, and you pick up any ...”

  “Where’re you going, Gobble Gabe?” Charlie’s cold, calculating voice cut me off, sending frozen rods into my spine. “You afraid to face me? Couldn’t look me in the eye and kill me when we were alive, why would I expect you to do it now? Isn’t that right, Gobble Gabe?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Oh, how I hated that name.

  I pulled the makeshift mask off my head and faced him. Charlie now stood in front of Franco. His head was down. but he still stared at me with hungry eyes. He had a grin on his face, and he now bore the new implement in his hands, unsheathed. Charlie held it like a two-handed sword, but that was about the only swordly thing about it. The back side was ridged with long tines, making it resemble a sort of bizarre comb. The rest was all wicked looking club lined top to bottom with row after row of hex head bolts just to give it that extra street gang, murde
ry feel. In Charlie’s hands, it looked like the most terrifying weapon I had ever seen in my life, and I held a whip that could rip a steel wall in half with a flick of my wrist.

  “So, what’ll it be, Gobble Gabe?” Franco taunted. “You going to face us like a man and do something to help your friends? Or turn tail and get them all killed?”

  I stared at them, trying to hide my shuddering ... everything … and considered my options. I didn’t think that homemade hunk of scrap would stand up to my Whip Crack, but if they were offering me a fight, it wasn’t one they planned to lose.

  “Don’t be stupid, Gabe.” Zoe grabbed my shoulder and tried to jerk me back. “They will never let us all go. As soon as you walk over there, they’ll trap us too.”

  “She’s right,” Meg said. “There is zero chance they’re letting us walk away from this free and clear.”

  Franco still stood his ground, arms crossed over his chest, grinning like a cat who had caught its first mouse. “By the way, do you remember the sweet, little girl we introduced you to just before we all ... you know, met our grizzly end and began our lovely existence here in The Nine?”

  I felt a tingle of fury begin to rise within me, starting at my feet and filling me all the way to my chest.

  “You know, the one you tried to save on that last night because you grew a spine in that jelly filled core of yours? Well, we ran into her a few years later down here. Can you imagine our surprise? In fact, she gave us the idea about opening the Wax Worx.”

  He chuckled as if we were all in on some sort of joke.

  “Not directly of course. Her contribution was much more ... shall we say, visceral.”

  Fury turned to white, hot rage, and I began to turn the handle of my Whip Crack, making the blades spin and whirr in a hiss of grinding metal.