43
“Talk about reckless,” Abby says.
I barely hear her. I stand up and grab the other rifle. I’m about to chase after Lilly. I can’t let her die for me. I can’t—
Abby grips me just above the elbow, squeezes excruciatingly hard. She’s got crazy strength in her good hand.
“What are you doing?” she says. I can feel the sudden burst of anger rippling off of her like shimmering heat waves. “She’s right. She’s making us stick to the plan.”
“She’s going to get shot!” I say it all too loudly.
Abby’s eyes find my own. I see sadness in them, but I also see understanding, and that’s when I understand.
“This sacrifice is Lilly’s, and Lilly’s alone,” Abby says. “She’s helping us, helping you.”
I nod and fall back to my knees, my rifle raised and following Lilly as she emerges from the shadows and into the bright lights beaming down from the tower.
Yes, it’s her sacrifice, I know. That doesn’t mean I have to feel okay about it. Because right now, I feel like shit. Complete, utter shit.
She’s not dead yet, dummy, Norm says. Relax. Use this to your advantage.
I hate myself, I really do.
A light finds Lilly, blinding. She raises her arm as a shield. I hear voices yelling and her yelling back. Then, in a matter of seconds, a trio of guards rush her, and pull her to the ground, like police officers roughly arresting a suspect.
It hurts to watch this, to see her treated like that, but I know it’ll only get worse. As soon as they can, they’ll do unspeakable things to her, and it’ll all be my fault.
This is the kick in the ass I need.
If I cut off the head of the snake, the rest of the body will die.
I look at Abby. Nod. She nods back.
“Let’s go,” I say.
We take off toward the former Leering and the current tower, flying past the distracted guards.
Lilly’s on the ground. Some hick presses his knee into the small of her back, while another works a rope around her ankles. I catch snippets of what they’re saying.
The hick says, “Ya know that there is punishable by death!” in a thick Southern accent, almost a twang.
Talk about cliché. It takes every fiber in my body not to aim down and blast these idiots away.
Abby grabs me and yanks me forward. I must be lagging behind.
Lilly’s head turns and we catch eyes for just a split second. She’s not asking for help, I see; she’s spurring me forward.
Damn it. Damn all of this.
44
Abby and I round the back of the building. We step over an old rusted fence wrapped with barbed wire, probably the original from Leering’s first go-around. A new one has been erected in its stead a few yards ahead, this one also wrapped with barbed wire at the top. It’s about ten feet high.
Abby isn’t slowing down. She gets within a few feet of the fence and springs up like a hurdler. She’s maybe more than halfway and she scurries the rest of the way with ease. One-handed, I’ll add. She never ceases to amaze me.
The commotion out front is starting to settle down. I know we won’t be able to be too loud, so I take my own leap.
Abby’s at the top. She uses her hook to grab the barbed wire and pulls it as she rappels down the other side. This, obviously makes a ton of noise, but the men and women out front are hooting and hollering and laughing like hyenas. I think we’re in the clear for now.
With a new gap in the wire, I roll over, nearly lose my balance, find it again, and then drop the last few feet.
Abby uses her boot to free the wire from her hook. It snaps back up top, but now sags.
She brandishes the hook at me. “See, it comes in handy sometimes.” She laughs. “Handy.”
I don’t return the laugh, though I’m sure I’ll think it’s funny, if I ever get the chance to think about it later. I don’t laugh because I’m too damn worried about Lilly.
Abby reads me like a book. “She’ll be okay, Jack,” she says. “She’s tough.”
“Tough enough to go against twenty District guards? Jesus Christ, I don’t even want to think about what—”
Abby reaches across and hits me in the shoulder. Pretty hard. I’m stunned silent for the moment.
“Have some faith in the female gender,” Abby says. “Trust me, Lilly will be fine. After we kill this bastard, we’ll make sure of it. So let’s fucking go. Come on.”
She motions me forward. We navigate a labyrinth of chainlink fences before we come to a heavy iron door. On it is a sigil of two eagles in flight. This is the very door a few guards should be posted in front of right now.
I run up to it, but don’t see a handle. My hands touch the cold surface, patting, knocking lightly.
Nothing.
All that, I’m thinking, for nothing. All that just so I can’t find a fucking doorknob.
“Here,” Abby says, and I’m so happy I could kiss her.
It seems to always slip my mind that she had dealings with the District—well, that’s putting it lightly. She knows things I could never know because she was inside the machine, she was a part of it.
She points to a blacked-out screen. I tap it once, and about a dozen underscores come up.
ENTER PASSWORD.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
“Do you know it?” I ask.
Abby laughs. “No one knows the password but the Overlord.”
Defeat hits me in the gut again, a good old sucker punch. I’ve lost. I’ve backed myself into a corner. I’ve gotten so many of who I care about killed; I’ve failed.
I’ve failed.
Don’t be a dummy, dummy, Norm says.
Just like that, just by hearing his voice, I’m pulled out of the deep end of defeat.
“Norm!” I practically shout. “He would know.”
“But he’s dead, Jack…”
I let my rifle fall on the strap as I begin digging through my pockets. For a moment, I think I’ve lost it. I think it’s fallen out somewhere miles away. Then I feel it. The sleek square shape, almost like a cell phone.
I pull it out. It’s warm from my body heat.
Please don’t be dead please don’t be dead—
I press the power button. Hold it down. One second. Two. Three. Four.
Then a soft, electronic chirp, a backlit screen, a green glow making Abby—who’s leaning over my shoulder, holding her breath—look ghostly.
What did Mandy call this thing? ‘The key to the kingdom?’
Yes. Yes, I think so.
“Norm, you beautiful son of a bitch,” Abby says.
I look up to the black sky and mumble, “Thank you.”
45
The door whirs open after about thirty seconds of fussing with the device. I’ve never been too competent with technology, but I figure that’s okay, since technology is now obsolete—or so I thought.
I step inside the place. Instantly, I realize how cold it is. Frigid, like a damn meat locker.
There’s a guard fumbling with papers at a desk. He’s big, burly, wearing a jacket with that double eagle sigil on it.
“About time, you idiot,” he says without looking back. “Lucky he didn’t come down here. But I don’t doubt he’s watching from his window up there. Don’t think I would’ve stalled, either. I don’t owe you anything, Sherm.”
Neither Abby or I reply.
Abby sneaks forward, while I aim my rifle at him. The device is now in my pocket, snug, secure.
“Sherm?” the guy says again and looks over his shoulder at me. He does a quick double take and starts fumbling for his sidearm on his hip.
By the time he even gets a hand on the butt of the weapon, Abby stabs a blade through his gut. He doubles over, blood gushing from the wound. He screams, but it’s a rusty, serrated scream I don’t think anyone will hear. Still, better safe than sorry. Abby knows this, understands it. She pulls the knife free from the guy’s gut and then slashes it acro
ss his throat. More blood sprays, slaps the white floor. He dies telling us to fuck off, I’m pretty sure.
Abby wipes the blade clean on top of his head.
The place is big. To my right is a see-through elevator that stretches up over a dozen floors. A large fountain on the far side of the room sprays water, which sickens me, because there’s so many people just outside of this town and this tower who are in dire need of something clean to drink.
“Where is everyone?” I say, looking around. This place should be packed with soldiers.
Abby shrugs. “Outside?”
“For Lilly?”
She shakes her head. “No, this is the Overlord’s personal tower. It’s, like, his house. I’m sure he doesn’t want a bunch of smelly soldiers mucking it up.”
“It’s a trap,” I say.
Abby nods. “Yeah, probably.”
That’s when we hear slow clapping, muffled.
The elevator dings, and the doors open. Simultaneously, a hundred rifles cock behind us.
I spin around. Soldiers emerge from the shadows, wielding rifles, pistols, and shotguns.
“Drop ‘em,” one says to me. “Drop your weapons.”
I turn back around and see the source of the clapping. From the elevator emerges the one-eyed man, the Overlord. He is wearing blue camouflage army fatigues. He’s rail-thin, yet he looks like he possesses a secret strength. He doesn’t wear an eyepatch over the missing eye. It’s a scarred pit of twisted, reddish-white skin, the eye completely gone. The other is lively, full of malice, and it’s focused right on us.
Anger like I’ve never felt before consumes me. I feel like my clothes may burn off, then my skin, my bones, until I am nothing but ash.
“Hi, Jack,” the Overlord says. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Before I can open my mouth, pain explodes at the back of my head. I hear Abby scream. I see, in my periphery, her collapse to the floor, not far from the growing pool of blood from the guard she killed.
Then it’s me who’s collapsing, the floor rushing up to say hello.
Blackness follows, the familiar blackness of the unconscious.
Good, I think fleetingly before I’m down for the count, that means I’m not dead yet.
46
I come back to reality looking out over the ruins of the dark town. Woodhaven, my home and native land. It takes me only a few seconds to realize what has happened.
How many times have I been here before? Tied up by the bad guy after he blindsided me or lured me into a trap? A lot. That’s bad. Right?
Well…how many times have I survived? How many times have I gotten free from the trap and killed the villain?
Every. Time.
Now is no different.
Except—
I look down at my hands. They’re not tied up. I’m sitting on a plush couch. It’s maroon colored, a few shades off from the color of blood. Abby sits next to me. She’s still out. I look down at my feet. They’re free, too.
In front of me is a large business desk. Bookshelves line the walls. Brightly colored spines stick out from the shelves, well worn, as if the Overlord is a reader.
This doesn’t make sense. This can’t be the Overlord’s office. Where’s all the gruesome shit? The severed heads in jars, the flags and blankets made out of stitched together human flesh?
Abby moans and looks over at me, eyes fluttering.
“Abby?” I say. “Ab?”
“Oh, fuck, what?” She sits up. “Never. Drinking. Again.”
“This isn’t a hangover, Ab. We got knocked out. They trapped us and bashed us over the head.”
Her eyes cross. There’s a large lump already forming above her right ear. Her hook is gone.
“Damn, you’re right. Where…where are we?” she asks.
I point to the large windows on the far side of the room. “I think we’re in the Overlord’s office? At the top of the tower.”
The door opens. “Not an office,” says a raspy voice, one I instantly recognize as his.
He steps through. He’s no longer wearing his blue fatigues. Now he’s dressed like a regular ol’ dude. Jeans, dark denim jacket, Doc Marten boots. He wears a button-up white shirt beneath the jacket, unbuttoned at the throat so a few wiry, gray hairs poke out.
I can’t control myself. I lunge forward off the couch. He’s alone. He’s seemingly unarmed. And he’s dressed like someone’s hippie dad. I can take him—
Of course someone comes out of the shadows again and hits me. A punch right to the gut.
I fall over on the lush carpet, ready to hack my lungs out. Strong hands grip me around the waist, but the fight’s not out of me yet. I flail. I swing and punch and connect with thick meat.
In the end, I’m no match for this guy. He’s a big motherfucker. His nose is bleeding, lip busted—I got in a couple of good licks—but it’s like he doesn’t even notice as he throws me back on the couch. He is a walking boulder.
He sticks a finger in my face like a stone column and says, “Stay put, asshole, or next time, I won’t be so gentle.”
That was gentle? That was anything but gentle. I keep my mouth shut, though, and decide it’s in my best interest not to have any more outbursts. Not while this guy is hanging around, or while I’m weaponless.
“Hamlet, please close the door,” the Overlord says.
“Hamlet?” Abby repeats, almost laughing.
The Overlord replies, “Why, yes, Hamlet here has an affinity for the plays of Shakespeare. He has left his old life behind, which means he has also left his name. You would know, Abigail Cage, if you had stuck around.”
Abby spits on the floor.
Hamlet looks over at the boss after closing the door, and the Overlord nods. Hamlet then raises his huge fist and strikes Abby across the face. She doesn’t cry out, just takes the blow, and falls back into the plush cushions of the couch we’re on.
I make another lunge, but it’s only halfhearted. I can’t have my brains scrambled, not now, not when I’m this close.
Hamlet smiles smugly at me. He looks like a bulldog. His smile says, Yeah, that’s right, punk. Next time, I’ll hit her harder. Then he moves out of the way, retreating to the shadows.
I’ve noticed the soldiers around here are good at that.
The Overlord leans on his large oak desk. He smirks at me. I don’t smirk back, but I do meet his gaze. I’m not backing down, even when the odds are stacked against me. He folds his skinny arms over his chest.
“Jack Jupiter,” he says. “Such tenacity. I’m surprised, really. And a bit honored.”
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Such venom.”
“If you’re going to kill us,” Abby says, “you better do it fast.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” the Overlord replies. “You’ve come all this way just for me to, what, kill you? I’m sorry, Abby, but I prefer to play with my food before I eat it. It’s perhaps not a good habit, but I can’t help myself.”
He sighs and then pushes off from the desk. I’m looking around subtly for something I can use as a weapon. Anything. Anything at all. I’m not seeing much, unless I decide prying Hamlet’s off his hip is a good idea. Which it’s not. But then, I may not have a choice.
“Why are we here?” I ask. “Why did you set the trap?”
I’m curious. Villains always have a motive, sometimes a stupid one, and maybe I can use it against him somehow.
The Overlord smiles. His teeth are rotten, and those that are still hanging in his putrid gums are crooked and weak. I want to smash the rest of them in, punch them right down his throat.
Darlene on the ground, bleeding, dead. My son, the same. These images are always floating in my mind, but now they’re at the forefront, and that constant flow of blood, of life-force, is leaking around the edges of my vision, turning everything red.
“Because, Jack, I wanted to offer you an ultimatum,” the Overlord says. “After what happened in San Francisco, that little community
you called Haven, the guilt ate away at me.”
“So you do remember me,” I say. It’s not a question.
“Of course! I never forget anyone. I know, I know, I killed your wife and son, and whomever else you cared about, but it was necessary. You have to understand that. All’s fair in love and war, right? That’s what they used to say, isn’t it?”
My hands clench into fists.
“I’ve seen you many times in my visions,” the Overlord says.
Here we go again.
“I saw you coming. You’ve been after me for a number of years, haven’t you? But you’ve only recently found the courage and the help to come and meet me. Again, I’m so sorry for your losses. Roland, Nacho, Mandy…and of course, Norman, your brother.”
“You saw that, too, huh?” I ask. My mouth feels coated with poison. I’m intoxicated with adrenaline.
“I did. I see a number of things. I don’t know what it is, what caused it,” the Overlord says. He’s still smirking, the corners of his lips curled up like a preying shark sneaking up for an easy kill. “But I possess a gift. Well…‘gift’ may be a generous term for it. It can also be a curse.” He turns around, walks back to his desk. One hand hovers near an assortment of writing utensils, the other cups his chin when he turns and looks at me. “You see, I saw you coming to the city and I saw you besting my Black Knights and I saw you would be successful. So I decided it best to meet with you another time. That’s why I sent Norman in my stead, your very own brother. Of course, when you met him again after all this time, he wasn’t exactly your brother anymore, was he? No, not quite.”
The fire in my belly, the fire of anger, goes supernova. If this is true, if he can really see into the future with his ‘visions’ then he knew I would kill Norm. He knew I’d have no choice. I may have been the one who stabbed him, who ended his life, but as far as I’m concerned, it was the Overlord who killed him. Just another life to add to the list of people he has murdered. More blood on his hands. More revenge on my mind.
“See, Jack, you had to kill him. If you didn’t, I certainly would have.”
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