by Eric Wood
Marcus wouldn't get any answers tonight. Nor any restful sleep. "Of course not, sir. Is there anything else?"
"No. No, that will be all. You can go back to your room, Marcus. I'll just stay up here a bit longer. Just a bit longer, looking at the city..."
Three Days Until Job — Abigail
Abigail stood next to Ki on the high balcony, watching the bustle in the Shadow Market below. To her, it looked like nothing more than a bunch of people going about their business, but to Ki, the activity apparently signified far more. She had been talking to Abigail quite a bit about it over the past hour they’d been standing up here. For the most part, Ki's words had gone in one ear and fell directly out the other, but since Ki seemed to have taken quite an interest in her — and had provided Abigail the necessary spinal fluid and bone marrow without a press of invasive questions — Abigail figured it wouldn't hurt if she at least pretended to listen.
"— do you see them, Abigail, all of those people? Each one of them living their own lives and pursuing their own interests. For every one of them down here, there are five on the surface. Hundreds, thousands of competing interests, both big and small, and nearly every one of them at odds to some degree with every other. How do you make one community — one civilization — from such a mass of disparate parts? It is something that has occupied my mind for a very long time."
"But I'm sure you've found a way," Abigail said, trying without much success to sound like she was interested.
"All of this would be much easier if I had. No, I have ideas, theories, but nothing more. Fear and conflict define any group of people. Cheyenne is no different. Wants and desires turn to jealousy and rivalry, old slights to fresh violence, uneasy truces to war and destruction. How can we break this cycle, Abigail?"
"I really hope this is a rhetorical question. If you're asking me for an answer, you're in worse trouble than I imagined."
"I could destroy Roosevelt — easier said than done, I know — but in the end, it won't solve anything. Uniting the city under the fear of me, personally, is a peace that can't last. No, we need something more. The city, maybe the world, needs something to unite it. It needs a symbol: something to aspire to. Something that can break, even replace the cycle of violence that has existed back till at least the outbreak of the Horsemen."
"I don't think either one of us is very well-suited to breaking that cycle, are we?" Abigail said.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Ki murmured thoughtfully.
The two of them stood there in silence a while longer before Ki spoke again. "This city balances on a knife's edge, and the coming days will determine if it will survive. I don't know how this will all turn out, but I am at least glad we have you on our side, you and Sam. You are on our side, aren't you Abigail?"
"I don't have a lot of choice, now do I?"
"I am of the opinion that we all have far fewer true choices available to us at any given time than we imagine."
"Well, then I suppose I'm on your side," Abigail said. "Until this job is finished. Keep your word, Ki, and we won't have any problems. Just don't forget that there are far worse things in this world than Lawbringer Roosevelt."
"Perhaps there are, Abigail. But it's always easier to face the terrors of the world together, rather than alone. Don't you agree?"
Two Days Until Job — Sam
Despite the two of them sharing a room for the past week, Sam had seen very little of Abigail. He spent most of his days out traveling the city and scouting Roosevelt's territory with Elena, while she spent her time familiarizing herself with the tunnels below, as well as with Ki herself. By the time they each returned to the room they were exhausted, one often already asleep when the other arrived.
Today was a rare exception. They had each finished their tasks before sundown. Elena had told Sam to take the next two days to rest up, which he was happy to do, and Abigail had been sent back to the room with a full two-person dinner, courtesy of Madame Ki. The truth was, Sam was starting to feel comfortable here, despite the almost-certain overwhelming danger under which they were living. Abigail, as usual, didn't say much, but he thought she might feel the same comfort that he did.
They sat next to each other on the living room couch, each working on their respective roasted garlic hens. After weeks on the road, Sam still had not grown used to the wide array of delicious foods the city had to offer. Each meal felt like a feast to him.
"Do you think this will actually work out like they say it will?" Sam asked.
"Almost certainly not," Abigail replied, between big greasy mouthfuls of chicken. "But as long as we're together, I think it might turn out okay. Maybe."
"Good enough for me," Sam said.
One Day Until Job — Roach
She sat in the dark staring at the ghost of her reflection in the clear, impenetrable cell wall. The only sound was that of her own angry breath. A nearly silent growl. She imagined them; could almost see them as if they were standing right before her.
The Doctor, who enjoyed his work a little too much. The Scarred Man, the man who nodded. The Lawbringer.
Soon, she thought.
They came down once a day to feed her, and each time they took extensive precautions to ensure she didn't try to escape. It had been seven days, judging by their visits: each day that they came down and she didn't try anything — didn't move, even — they relaxed just a tiny bit more.
She balled her hands into fists, and she smiled.
Soon.
18
Sam focused on keeping his breathing even, all the while trying to force his heart rate down toward something approaching normal. Hell, he would be satisfied with even a 'full hundred-yard sprint' heart rate at this point. Hopefully he looked calmer than he felt.
He walked alongside Elena, matching her quick-yet-unhurried pace as the exited the cordon from the Central Market district and entered the territory held by Lawbringer Roosevelt. After a week of preparation, the day had come to rob the most powerful man in the city.
Sam did not feel even remotely ready for this.
Come now, Sammy, Vincente's voice said in his ear. What's the worst that can happen?
Off the top of my head, Sam silently answered, we could all be caught, tortured, and cut up into little pieces. But I'm sure if you gave me time, I could think of worse possibilities.
"Remember," Elena said, her voice completely nonchalant despite the obvious danger the next few hours held for them both, "you stay silent, even if one of the soldiers addresses you directly."
"Silent, right," Sam said, "no worries there. I'm quickly becoming an expert at that sort of thing."
"And look like you're in charge, especially if they challenge you. And look offended if they try. In fact, try and look offended all the time. Remember, you're playing an operative of the Company. Dealing with common underlings should be beneath you."
Sam tugged at the silver-trimmed sleeves of his collarless black leather jacket. He tried to put himself again in the headspace of the character he was supposed to be playing. The truth was, he currently felt about as far away from the mindset of an impossibly high-priced and hard to find mercenary as he could imagine.
At least you've got those fancy shades to hide your eyes behind, Vincente's voice said. No one will be able to see how scared you are.
When Madame Ki explained who he would be posing as for the duration of this job, Sam had thought she was joking. He had heard stories of the Company growing up, but he’d always imagined them as holding little more truth than the Old World comic books squirreled away in the media archives.
The Company, as the stories went, were Old World soldiers, spies, and police officers that had survived the initial Horsemen outbreak, and rather than join the other societal remnants behind the walls of the Colonies had instead vowed to continue helping the common folk of the wider world. Gunslinger, private eye, or crime-fighting vigilante, depending on the story, the Company men were the heroes Colony children pretended to be when they
played make-believe.
According to Madame Ki, the reality was quite different.
The Company were mostly ex-Colony Scouts and Elders who, for one reason or another, had decided to leave the safety and relative luxury of their homes in favor of selling their services to the highest bidders. They were excessively secretive and exceedingly competent, often taking or turning away jobs for seemingly esoteric reasons. Elena later added to this description by telling him that the rumors were the organization still maintained links to various Colony leaderships, which made Sam all the more nervous considering the still-uncertain status of the bounty he was under. No doubt making him uncomfortable was part of her goal, seeing as how she had also told him that people who falsely represented themselves as Company men tended to disappear.
Of course, that particular bit of danger mattered little if he messed up today. Sam doubted that Lawbringer Roosevelt had much more leniency for those that tried to steal from him. Priority one was surviving the day. He'd worry about less immediate dangers later.
Roosevelt's districts were as far from Ki's as Sam could imagine. The streets were wide, clear of debris, and marked by straight rows of concrete and metal construction. Uniformed soldiers, most with faces hidden behind black masks, were the most common passersby, though the occasional well-dressed civilians could occasionally be glimpsed hurrying from one building to another.
As they continued forward, Sam spotted several glass-enclosed rooms one or more stories above street level, each filled with more well-dressed, rich-looking people. One room appeared to be a bar or a restaurant, and another might have been a clothing store. Everything was clean and buttoned down a little too tightly, bringing to Sam's mind images of an upper-class Old World neighborhood that had been put under martial law.
"Alright," Elena said as they came to a street-length barricade, "we're here. Put your game face on, 'cause it's show time."
As they reached the barricade, Elena raised her hands above her head and lowered herself to her knees on the pavement. Sam took a deep breath and let it out. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and tried to look as arrogant and lazily confident as he was possibly able. As Elena said, it was show time.
A group of soldiers approached, raising their weapons tentatively, all of them obviously confused.
"My name is Elena Rostov, adviser and agent of Madame Ki," Elena said. "And I am here to surrender myself. I need to speak with Lawbringer Roosevelt immediately."
Abigail dropped down into the cool, damp darkness of the mines. She sniffed at the musty black all around her, searching for the telltale stink of nearby Infected. She listened for any noises that might indicate activity.
Nothing. It seemed like she was the mines' sole occupant. So much for Ki's repeated warnings about the dangers waiting below the city. It seemed like getting lost down here in the darkness was the greatest danger she would face today.
Until she reached Roosevelt's, of course.
She had long since committed her path to memory. She'd always had a good sense of direction, and her Reaper eyes could see as well in the dimmest of light conditions as an Uninfected could under the noonday sun. Down here, the small amount of light leaking in from her entrance would fade quickly, but that was why she carried a supply of glow sticks with her.
Once she had traveled a hundred paces into the mine, she cracked her first stick. Green light roared to life and then faded to a dim glow that illuminated the caverns in an ethereal emerald radiance.
She reached the first of the two large caverns between the Shadow Market and what would be her exit below Roosevelt's headquarters. The rough-carved, uneven stone walls reminded her of those tunnels back east that had held the secret Colony lab. The tunnels into which she had followed that pair of Scouts, and from which she had saved the foolish, frustrating boy that had so upended her life.
She wondered how Sam was fairing up above. Despite what she told him, he was one of the more competent people she had met, and she believed, even more than him, that he was up to the task set out for him. It was Elena that was the problem. Abigail didn't trust her, and she hated that Sam didn't seem to share her misgivings. If things went bad up on the surface, she was certain that Elena wouldn't think twice about throwing Sam to the wolves.
All the more reason to keep moving.
She checked her watch: she was still ahead of schedule. If her luck held she would be waiting around for a bit once she reached her destination in the subbasements. Timing was everything in this plan, after all. How many times had Ki repeated those very words?
Abigail reached the far end of the cavern and dropped another stick. One more tunnel, a short climb up the second cavern's wall, and then —
Her entire body tensed before her mind registered the sound. Far away still, but there was no mistaking the source of that howl. She was not the only Infected in these mines after all.
Abigail carried a silenced pistol at her back, but she didn't want to use it unless she had to. The hard-stone walls would deflect any errant round unpredictably. There was a very good chance other people would be sending bullets her way before the day was done: she didn't want to be facing her own to boot. Instead, she drew a combat knife and advanced with it held out in front of her.
Despite her enhanced senses, despite her caution, and despite her preparation, she didn't see the Plague-Heads until the first of them had slammed into her side.
She cursed as she was driven into the jagged stone, more out of frustration than pain. The Plague-Heads had come from the opposite direction as the Howler's call, and it had drawn her attention just enough for the ghouls to get the jump on her.
She held the snapping, snarling jaws of the Plague-Head away from her cheek, trying not to gag as its infectious, foul-smelling vomit dripped down her face. If she had been a normal, Uninfected explorer down in these mines, she would be in a world of trouble right now, staring down certain Horseman Virus infection and some severe bite wounds before the disease took hold and the Plague-Head lost interest.
Luckily for her, she was already a Reaper. She ignored the vomit and ripped her hand sideways, tearing the Plague-Head's lower jaw free from its head. It hissed in a reaction that was more mindless reflex than pain. She lifted the monster just enough to get a foot underneath its torso, and then she kicked upward, throwing it free from her body. In the low light of the glow sticks, she saw three more Plague-Heads approaching at a sprint, the lead only a few feet away.
Instead of falling back she rolled forward into a crouch. As the Plague-Head reached her, she brought the knife forward in an upward arch. She buried the blade in the bottom of the ghoul's jaw up to the hilt; she spun around as it passed her, already dead on its feet. Letting go of the knife — there was no chance to pull it free in time to use it — she instead stepped forward and swung a roundhouse punch into the second Plague-Head’s face, driving forward with all of her strength and momentum.
Its skull — softened by years of slow decay down here in the dark — yielded to her fist like a waterlogged piece of plywood. She drew her pistol and snapped off a shot, hitting the final Plague-Head point-blank between its hollowed-out eyes. She turned toward the initial, now half-skulled Plague-Head, and with one more shot from the pistol put it down for good.
She let out a breath and listened for more of them. For several long moments she crouched in silence, the only other sound a periodic drip-dripping as the last bits of vomit dribbled off of her cheek. With a sigh, she wiped the foul liquid from her face and bent down to recover her knife. A quick reevaluation of her surroundings showed her she was right beneath her exit. A quick ten foot climb would put her into the sewers directly below Roosevelt's headquarters.
She curled her lips. As foul as the Plague-Head vomit was, the smell around her was about to get much worse. Abigail found some handholds on the wall, and then she began her climb toward the sewers and her mission.
19
One of the two men across the table looked at th
e other, and then back toward Sam and Elena. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then finding that he seemed to not quite know what to say, closed it and sighed. He straightened the small stack of papers in front of him and cleared his throat.
"It's pretty damned straightforward," Elena said. "I have information that your commander is going to want to hear. I don't know why we're still sitting here in this tiny room staring at each other."
Sam nodded, watching each of the two men — he wasn't sure if they were guards, administrators or something else — from behind his black sunglasses. He felt a bit foolish still wearing the things inside, but neither Elena nor Madame Ki had told him that he should take them off. He held his best intimidating look on his face. He wasn't sure if it was conveying any actual intimidation, but the two men at the very least looked slightly confused, which he decided was better than nothing.
"Perhaps if you could simply —" one of the guards began.
"You will tell us what information you have," the other said, cutting the first off," and we will decide if it is something that requires the Lawbringer's attention."
Elena shook her head. "That's not how this is going to work, idiot. I give this info to Roosevelt himself, or no deal."
"You're not in any position to dictate terms, young lady," the first guard said.
Elena laughed. "Young lady? Who do you think you're talking to? Did you even do a cursory check on my identity? You think I'm some sort of gutter rat bringing scraps of rumors? I have direct access to Madame Ki herself. You should be dropping to your knees and thanking you precious lord that you happened to be the needle-knobbed middle manager on duty when I fell into your lap."
"That's enough," the first guard said. His tone was still hard with authority, but a bit of doubt began to creep into his expression. He stood up. "We'll go and check out what you say. You two can wait here until we return, and if what you say is true..."