by Eric Wood
She wondered if Sam had noticed them; she wondered what Sam made of the city in general. While Abigail had years of practice in keeping her focus hidden while constantly taking in and evaluating her surroundings, Sam had experienced exactly one Uninfected settlement outside of his Colony before now. It certainly showed. His head swung from one side to the other, constantly tilted back, and his mouth never quite shut. He was certainly taking an interest in their surroundings, that much was clear, but his was more toward the gawking tourist end of the spectrum. She didn't know whether she should smack him or just laugh. In the end, it didn't matter much, seeing as the more immediate threat was the loose circle of gunmen that surrounded them.
Hopefully, this Madame Ki really did just want to talk. Otherwise things were going to get very, very messy, very quickly.
Elena brought their group to a halt at the wide circle of an intersection, cleared out enough that it almost formed a half-paved, half-cobblestoned courtyard. It was surrounded on all sides with tall buildings, each of them cleaner, sturdier and far better maintained than the drooping, overhanging wooden things of the previous blocks. At the center of this unexpected circle of open space was an odd, dome-roofed building that appeared to be of a far newer make than the others. It had the vague air of an ancient temple, albeit one with bright neon cursive lettering above its entrance. Its gaudy lights spelled out a single word: Damnation. Abigail was fairly certain this was their destination.
"Welcome to journey’s end," Elena declared, her face displaying a perfectly friendly smile whose effect was slightly lessened by the hand resting on her firearm. "We have arrived at Hell. Now, shall we?"
"I remember the last guy who told me we were in hell," Sam grunted. "I'll have to tell you sometime about what happened to him."
Their party entered Damnation. Abigail wondered if she and Sam would still be breathing when they left.
What looked like little more than a single-story building from the outside was more like an inverted tower inside. Damnation, as it was so evocatively named, proved to consist of a series of large, circular rooms, each stacked one atop the other, with wide, circular staircases along the outer walls. Each room seemed to have a different theme — if you could call it that — or maybe they were simply different establishments entirely. Sam had never seen places like this before, not in person anyway, but he recognized them from the Old World entertainments he'd watched growing up. Mostly the crime and the gangster entertainments.
As they descended, Sam picked out by floor the various dens of vice Damnation had stacked atop one another. There was what seemed to be a simple tavern on the ground floor, nicer than most he had seen in the real world, but not quite as clean as the early 20th century speakeasies it seemed to be trying to emulate. The next floor down was a dance club of some sort, with swirling multicolored lights and thumping bass beats going strong despite the early hour. Below this was a real, live casino, filled with clinks, clangs, bells, buzzers, and whistles all competing with one another as rows of hollow-eyed gamblers mechanically pulled the shiny metal arms of slot machines and the levers of pachinko machines. One wall of the casino was manned by well-dressed card dealers, though their tables seemed less popular this early in the day.
Sam wasn't sure exactly what the next floor's business was at first; his immediate guess was that it was some sort of lounge or even hotel. It was dimly lit and filled with soft, soothing music and populated by young women lazing about on various couches in their nightclothes. He felt his cheeks abruptly warm when Abigail told him they were passing a brothel.
Finally, they seemed to reach the bottom of Damnation. Below the brothel was a simple bar, cleaner but no better outfitted than those he had seen out in the Wilds. However, down here it seemed that everyone save the bartender was conspicuously armed, and none of them seemed to be customers. To one side lay a heavy-looking double door, flanked by the very largest of the dimly lit bar's not-customers.
Sam knew that it was dangerous to assume things out here in the Wilds, but he was pretty sure he knew who was waiting for them on the other side of those doors.
After the exotic excesses she had just witnessed on their way down through Damnation, and after seeing firsthand the strength of her forces in the city above, Abigail found Madame Ki somewhat underwhelming in person. Disappointing even.
Abigail wasn't sure what she expected to find, here in this heavily fortified underground headquarters, but it wasn't a somewhat small, middle-aged Asian woman sitting behind a simple wooden desk. She'd assumed that the person in charge of all of this would look more like the guard on Ki's right, whose thick, round face was covered with the crude black scribbles of poorly done tattoos. Or even the guard on the left, sporting a red, puckered scar from forehead to chin.
Ki herself looked entirely unremarkable, and perhaps that was the point. She appeared somewhere between forty and sixty years old, and she couldn't have stood much more than five feet in height. Her simple gray business dress was unadorned, as nondescript as the neutral expression on her smooth, heart-shaped face. She looked more like a bookkeeper than a crime boss.
Ki looked over Sam and Abigail for a long while in silence, appearing completely relaxed and entirely in control. Abigail couldn't identify exactly what it was about Ki's expression and body language that conveyed this air of command — the woman really wasn't doing anything but sitting there with her fingers steepled together on the desktop in front of her — but the effect was unmistakable. Someone like old Mae might have some degree of power because of her resourcefulness and grit, or someone like Elena because they were personally dangerous, but the power that Abigail sensed in this Ki was something different, yet somehow familiar.
Abigail realized with a start of whom that effortless aura of command reminded.
Solomon. Madame Ki was no Reaper, of that Abigail was sure, but she carried herself like one. As if anything she wanted to make happen, she could make happen. And there wasn't anything that anyone could do to stand in her way.
She made sure that the woman didn't see the shudder than ran through her at this realization. I proved Solomon wrong in the end, she reminded herself. If this woman thinks she can beat me, I can prove her wrong just the same.
"Well?" Abigail said, casting her hardest stare across the desk. "We're here. As you so kindly requested. Let's get on with it."
Ki looked at the gunmen that had escorted Sam and Abigail here, and who were presently crowded in behind them. She gave them the slightest of nods and they wordlessly exited the room, leaving only Madame Ki, her two original guards, and Elena in the office with Sam and Abigail.
"Please, sit," Ki said, perfectly polite. She gestured with an empty hand toward the two chairs in front of them and Sam and Abigail sat down. Elena stepped to the side, where she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.
"I would like to begin by apologizing for my abominable rudeness," Ki began. She offered them a thin smile that failed to reach her eyes. "I would have greatly preferred to offer you a genuine invitation of hospitality, but I'm afraid that, given the present circumstances, that would have been quite impossible."
"What present circumstances?" Sam asked.
"We will get to that, young man, never fear," Ki said. "But suffice to say, the two of you have become a great deal more famous as of late than I believe you realize. I do not relish being the one to tell you this, but based on the communiques Elena has sent me, you seem entirely incapable of properly concealing your identities. Fortunately for me — and the pair of you, I don't mind saying — you dropped right into my lap, so to speak."
"We've been doing just fine so far," Sam said.
Ki flashed a weak smile and gave Sam a slight nod. She was clearly too refined to say what she was no doubt thinking, which was something along the lines of, Sure you were, you fool.
"Of course," Ki instead said. "However, no one's luck lasts forever, and I couldn't risk you turning down my invitation and falling into the hands of
my counterpart."
Solomon had taught her that when you find yourself in the presence of a threat who liked to talk, you sat there and absorbed any and all the information they might offer. Often, by the time they grew either too tired or too smart to keep giving away intelligence, you'd have everything you needed to destroy them.
Sam obviously hadn't learned this lesson. "I'm willing to bet you think you're a whole lot smarter than you actually are, lady. I think you don't have a clue who we are, and you're just trying to scare us into giving you something you can use."
"Do you honestly think I have the time or patience to personally interrogate every backwoods fool from outside the walls of this city?" Ki asked him. Despite her cutting words, she didn't sound angry in the slightest. If anything, she sounded amused. Abigail imagined her as a cat pawing at a cornered mouse. "Sam Brennan, late of the Black Hills Survivor's Colony of old South Dakota. Now considered absconded from the same, with a bounty for apprehension or incapacitation."
Abigail glanced over at Sam, who had fallen silent. His earlier defiance drained out of him, along with the color from his face. She didn't know what had unnerved him more, that Ki knew exactly who he was, or that his people had issued a bounty on him.
"The same Sam Brennan who is traveling with a young, unknown female companion. Of course, the official wires don't include the small detail that this unknown female companion is, in fact, an Infected. A Reaper, specifically."
Now it was Abigail who felt exposed. If she hadn't thought Ki capable before, the fact that she knew Abigail's true nature sealed the case. More than a renewed respect for this person's capability, Abigail felt once again the familiar fear. People — Uninfected people — didn't often react well to finding out a Reaper was in their midst. The first reaction was to put down the threat by any means necessary. Abigail found that without realizing it, she had balled her hands into tight fists.
"You have nothing to worry about here, my little destroyer," Ki said, sensing Abigail was getting ready to move. "On the contrary, I believe the pair of you will quite like what I have to say. I want to make you an offer."
"Since the earliest days of the post-Horsemen world, this city has been ruled by a series of those with the will necessary to take power and maintain order," Madame Ki said. "None of them were ever strong enough to rule the city outright, and none of them lasted more than a handful of years. In the early days, there were as many as a dozen leaders ruling a dozen tiny fiefdoms. Over the years, these each fell one by one. New ones arose to replace them and then, in time, fell themselves. Eventually, territories consolidated, areas of strength were identified, and twelve became six became three, and then finally two.
"Today, control of this city rests with two individuals. Myself, of course, and a man who calls himself Roosevelt the Lawbringer. The city's eastern districts fall under the umbrella of my protection, while the Lawbringer rules the west."
"Fascinating," Abigail said. "How does this concern us?"
"So impatient, little destroyer —"
"I'm getting more than a little tired of being called that," Abigail spat.
Ki ignored her. "A little over a week ago, a particularly violent and powerful Ravager lord was destroyed, along with a sizable contingent of Colony freelancers and a great deal of infrastructure. There was a single Ravager survivor, who headed west, followed by a particularly determined duo of pursuers. Does any of this sound like it concerns you?"
Abigail sighed. There was apparently little that Ki didn't know.
But does she really have to be so smug about it? Does she really think her pair of freak show guards and that gawky bitch Elena can protect her if she exhausts my patience?
She took a deep breath and forced herself to calmness. Remember, let the old woman talk herself out. She obviously has plenty of knowledge to share.
"You don't...happen to have this Ravager?" Sam asked. "Because, if you did —"
"Unfortunately I do not," Ki said, cutting him off. "As I was able to collect you, so too was Roosevelt able to capture this rather unusual Ravager. According to my sources, he is holding both her and some other individual she was found with inside his headquarters. I can assure you he would be less than amenable to releasing her to you, were you foolish enough to ask."
"I wouldn't say foolish..." Sam said, frowning.
"Here is what I propose," Ki said. "I believe I have a way to get you into the heart of Roosevelt's center of operations. I can provide you with blueprints to lead you to your wayward Ravager once you are inside, the means to retrieve her, and a distraction of sufficient size to allow you to escape with a minimum of difficulty." She pressed her palms together and leaned forward slightly. "In short, what I am offering you is everything that brought you to our fair city."
"That sounds like an awfully generous offer," Abigail said. "I still haven't heard the catch."
"And you are right to wonder," Ki answered. "Nothing is free; it wasn't in the Old World, and it damn sure isn't in the new one we are building. Roosevelt has something I want. Something that doesn't belong to him, the key to finally being rid of him once and for all. You will bring it to me. Your reward is your Ravager, plus whatever else of his you want to take."
Abigail considered this strange offer. Beside her, Sam seemed to be doing the same. After a few moments, he gave voice to the obvious question.
"Why us?" Sam asked. "That's what I don't get. I mean, even if Abigail is what you think she is, what good am I? And you don't exactly seem to be lacking for firepower. Why not just use her," — he thumbed over at Elena — "or one of your other goons? Hell, why not use a few dozen of them?"
Ki nodded. "A fair question. There are a great deal of political reasons why I can't simply take what I seek, but the simple answer is that for every gun I have, Roosevelt has two. I may be winning our little quiet war in every other way, but, like it was among our most distant ancestors, having the most fighters still counts for quite a lot. As for why I want to use you two specifically, the short answer is because you are outsiders. Unknowns; wild cards that I can use to my advantage. Like you say, our little destroyer has a particular skill set, but you Sam — don't sell yourself short. With a little bit of finesse, your background can be shaped into something that Roosevelt won't be able to resist."
"I don't know if I like the sound of that..." Sam said.
Ki smiled. "We're going to walk you right through Roosevelt's door, Sam. You and Elena. And Roosevelt is going to welcome you straight into his office as honored guests."
"You're going to have me babysitting these kids?" Elena protested. "They're just teenagers. The boy is right: he'll be useless —"
"I seem to remember you were younger than them when I began giving you assignments like this, Elena," Ki said, narrowing her eyes slightly. Elena fell silent, but she continued to fume as she leaned back against the wall. "And you are barely removed from being a teenager even now. Certainly, your behavior is no better."
"Just how are you going to get your mortal rival to let us in his front door, alongside your attack dog here, no less?" Abigail asked.
"Not you, dear," Ki said. "You'll be entering via a different path. Shall we go through the details?"
15
Lawbringer Roosevelt, his toothy smile never wavering from his wormy lips, nodded toward their cell. One of his guards stepped forward and unlocked the door. Roosevelt nodded again and then entered the room alone.
Roach had to stifle the nearly overwhelming urge to attack, or to try and make a break for the now-open door. No, she thought, not yet. Too many guards; too many guns. As hard as it was, she needed to wait for the right time. Roach gritted her teeth and did the hardest thing she could imagine: she sat there unmoving as Roosevelt approached her with the same stupid smile.
"The silent Ravager," he said, folding his arms behind his back and looking down on her. The smile disappeared from his face, replaced by a considering, almost perplexed, look. He is taking my measure, Roach realize
d. Trying to figure out exactly what to do with me. Or how to dispose of me.
"Still you sit there," he continued, "unmoving and unspeaking. It's like nothing I've ever seen in one of your kind. Almost enough to fool one into thinking you're human." He frowned. "Almost."
Roach continued to sit silently, staring back unblinking into the man's eyes. She kept her expression neutral, but she didn't doubt that he could see the hatred burning in her glare. She wondered if he could see in her eyes what she was imagining doing to this fat, arrogant man who seemed to believe unwaveringly in his power over her. A flicker of movement finally drew her eye away from Roosevelt to a figure standing behind him, just outside the inner cell. A bright red scar ran down his otherwise unremarkable face, above and below large, reflective sunglasses.
"Oh don't mind Mr. Cutter," Roosevelt said. "He's just here to observe. A Company man, you might say. Hired to help with our research. You'll get to know him better in the coming days. Now, to the matter at hand: I've read the accounts of my patrols," Roosevelt said, his smile fading. "I saw the images of the...aftermath. The good men you killed, you and the rest of your band of creatures." He leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to her own. "Where are the rest of you, girl? Where's your band of monsters hiding?"
Roach smiled, though she knew it would only stir the man to anger and make things worse for her. "I don't know what you are talking about," she said. "There is no one out there. No one that killed your little toy soldiers. It was just me. I killed them all. It wasn't hard."