by Robert Clark
I checked out the windows. Two on the ground floor, but neither looked like the kind that opened without a rock busting through. The ones on the second floor were better, but they were almost twenty feet in the air. The nearest trees had been cut to stumps, probably to counter situations such as the one I faced. And unless I wanted to spend half an hour rolling snow around into a ball big enough to climb up, I wasn’t getting in without a new plan.
I needed a ladder. I’d seen them on the posts the guards used to watch the gates, but getting one of them without being spotted would be as simple as learning how to turn myself invisible and walk through the front door. But I bet there was more than one ladder in the whole place. And I knew just where to look.
I headed back in the direction of the clinic. The neighbouring building had looked like some kind of workshop. It was my best bet to find what I needed. The more I walked, the more I cooled down, physically and mentally. I was still mad. Livid. But storming around in the dark wasn’t going to make that any better. If anything, it was going to get me spotted and shot. Cooler heads were required.
The walk took about twice as long as I’d expected due to the fact Second Solace was a busy metropolis of angry mercenaries. News of my escape had no doubt spread, which had forced many denizens out into the woods to hunt. As I waited, ducked low behind the largest tree I could find to allow a particularly large group of Second Solacers to mosey on by, I thought of Sophie. Not in custody. Not even in America. Somewhere out there. Hopefully alive. Hopefully well. Hopefully happy. She may never know what I had gone through, thinking her life was in peril at the hands of rogue Federal Agents. She may never know any of what I had been through.
I tried to take my mind off it. Away from the prospect of never seeing her again. It helped me none, to let my mind wander away from the present. The past was the past, and the future was none of my concern for now. The present was all I needed.
The group passed by, and I continued. Always watchful. Never spotted. Through the trees, I spotted my destination. The clinic and workshop sat side by side like misshapen siblings. Lights were on inside the clinic, but the workshop was dark. Just how I liked it.
Just like the courthouse, I looped around, approaching the building from behind. As I skirted past the clinic, I could hear voices inside. The words were too muffled and quiet to hear, but it kept me on my toes. I squeezed into the darkest recesses of the buildings and moved onwards.
There was no door in the back of the workshop. No windows either. I cursed my poor luck and kept going. The front it would be then. I continued my anti-clockwise trajectory and came up on the workshop from the side I had driven in on that morning. It felt like a lifetime ago. No one was around. No patrolling guards. No pitchfork-wielding citizens. No one. Silence. Excellent.
I slipped inside and looked around. No lights. Not that I wanted any. But the darkness was so pure that it took a while to adjust. I stayed put. I didn’t want to bash into anything wandering blind, and movement drew attention. No reason to do it until it was necessary. I waited minutes, letting my eyes adjust, letting the murky shapes adopt some sense of reason. Then I started to search.
A ladder is not a simple item to hide. It is obtuse. Intrusive. It’s the kind of thing you bump into when you forget it’s leant up in the garage. It’s the kind of thing you move again and again searching for the perfect spot to leave it. In a workshop, it’s the kind of item that gets hung up on a wall or ceiling, or relegated to the storerooms.
I looked around. Checked the walls and ceilings and saw nothing. No ladders. I checked under the workbenches, and behind the cupboards. Nothing. I checked the storeroom at the back of the building. Nada. Zilch. No ladders. I opened all the doors and checked all the cupboards. Nothing. Not a single damn ladder. Which made zero sense to me. They had to be somewhere.
There had to be something. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but you can be damn certain they used a ladder for the tall bits. Same logic applied to Second Solace. These people weren’t magical. They didn’t have wings or extra long arms. They used ladders like every other damn fool who goes off into the woods to build his own private empire.
I looked around one last time. The only room I hadn’t checked was the toilet, because for all its majesty, Second Solace did not do toilets justice. It was little more than a hole in the ground, and it smelt as bad as an unsanitised hole in the ground can possibly get. It made me gag just thinking about it. But nothing ventured was nothing gained, so I had to look.
There it was. Propped up against the wall, with the unholy stink of festering shit all the company it was going to get, was the ladder. Not much higher than one storey, and as old as the building it rested inside of. But it would do the job.
I hauled it out of the toilet room with the taint of body produce fresh in my nostrils and propped it up on the nearby worktop while I worked to recover from the ordeal. It took a couple of minutes of breathing fresh air in through my nose and out through my mouth to do it, but the nausea passed eventually. I returned to the ladder, hoisted it up onto my shoulder, then I heard something.
Voices. Not low and conversational. Angry and hostile. One a man. One a woman.
I lowered the ladder and snatched up a hammer off the wall. I bent down low and crept towards the mouth of the workshop. I peered out and looked around. Tried to locate the source of the disturbance.
It wasn’t far away, and almost immediately I saw who the voices came from. The first was Maddox Cage. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn that morning as I dropped him off, yet he looked much worse for wear. His giant frame was weathered and worn. He clung to a wooden crutch that was too small for his stature and forced his posture into that of a crooked old man. But there was a fire in his voice. His words like bullets, peppering his opponent.
Cece took it all and threw it right back at him. Her retorts like knives, slicing through the stillness back at her former boss. No attempt made to mask their argument. The scene was too heated for that.
‘Do not lie to yourself, Maddox,’ she spat. ‘You were as committed to this cause as I am. The only difference is that I did not get cold feet.’
‘I didn’t get cold feet. I realised the truth. We cannot win a fight on their terms,’ snarled Cage. ‘We don’t have the tools, or the manpower to win. This isn’t about conquering the whole world. It’s about showing them that we can hold our own.’
‘And how can we achieve that without a show of force? What has the last five years been about if not precisely that? What has happened to you Maddox that you have become so blind to what is right in front of you?’
‘Oh, I’m not the one who’s blind.’
‘Is that true?’ she spat. ‘Then answer me this, how have you lost control of your own home? Your people, they do not follow you, they do not trust you. They look at you and see a coward. A fool. You have allowed snakes into your nest, and they have run rampant.’
‘The only snake I see is you, Cecilia.’
With great effort, he took a step forwards and brought his hand up. He grasped her by the throat, but did not appear to squeeze.
‘Get your hands off of me.’
‘I gave you everything,’ Cage said. His deep voice no more than a snarl. ‘Everything. I handed you my entire legacy on a silver platter. Why? Because I thought you were my ally, I thought you were my friend.’
‘I did exactly as you asked,’ said Cece, her body rigid beneath Cage’s grasp. ‘I followed your orders to the letter. I did everything, everything you wanted. Even as your control waned and others came in for the kill, I defended you.’
‘Bullshit,’ Cage barked. ‘You led the charge, and you betrayed me.’
‘No.’
‘You betrayed the one person who gave you a chance. Anyone else would have kicked you into the dirt and put a bullet between your eyes. Just as you deserved.’
‘No.’
There were tears in her eyes. I could see them running down her cheek and onto Cage’
s hand.
‘I gave you everything, and you did exactly what you have always done. You destroyed it.’
‘Never,’ she screamed. ‘I followed you, because-’
There was a long pause. Her chest convulsed and heaved.
‘Spit it out,’ Cage snapped.
But she could not finish her sentence. The tears were too intense.
Cage laughed.
‘I should have killed you the moment I saw you,’ he said.
His fingers squeezed. Even from a distance, I saw her eyes bulge. Saw her mouth open in shock.
‘You mean nothing to me, Cecilia,’ he snarled. ‘Nothing. Less than the dirt on my boot.’
He squeezed tighter. Cece’s hands scratched his. Tears ran down her face.
‘James was right about you,’ he roared. ‘You are nothing but a traitor-’
But he was interrupted before he could finish, as a single gunshot sliced through the night.
Twenty-Eight
What Comes Next
The sound of the bullet shattered the silence. Echoes reverberated through the night, the clap of the gun bouncing off the trees to create an infinite loop of reality shattering. Neither Cage nor Cece moved, trapped in the moment like flies in a web. Horror etched across both faces. Desperate to cling onto the final fracture of the moments before. Afraid of what came after.
But it came, just like it always did. The passage of time ticks ever onwards.
Maddox Cage stumbled backwards, delayed by his own surprise, and fell backwards into the snow. Blood spooled out through his fingers, tainting the pure snow beneath him. He looked from his chest to the woman before him and uttered one single word.
‘No.’
Cece unfroze. Smoke rose from the muzzle of the pistol clasped in her hand. Instead of running to her former boss’s aid, she turned on her heel and ran into the darkness. Her destiny solidified.
I waited until she was out of my sight, and ran to Cage. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. But it was as certain in his future as the turn from night to day. His eyes met mine as I approached, and something changed in his face.
I dropped to his side and looked at the damage. The bullet had hit him square in the chest. Not a direct hit on the heart, but close enough to be as decisive. His shirt was thick with blood, as was the ground beneath my feet. Far too much. He didn’t have long.
‘Cage, I’m sorry.’
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was too weak. He let go of his chest and clasped his bloodied, shaking hands around mine. They were colder than ice. Deathly. His mouth moved, desperate to speak. All that came out was a murmur. His expression worsened. Angered and upset he couldn’t achieve the simplest of tasks. I leaned in close. Pressed my ear up against his mouth. Felt the warmth of his breath. Smelt the faintest whispers of cigar smoke.
‘Thirty-six, ten, fifty-nine, ninety-seven.’
His voice was hoarse and raddled, sapped of his former strength. I raised my head and looked into his eyes. Pale and fading. Old and wise, yet at the same time youthful and alert. I’d seen it before. It was the sign of fear. The fright of what comes next. The horror of realising that a candle extinguished can never be relit. What comes next is forever and uncertain.
‘I’m here with you,’ I said. I squeezed his hand. ‘It’s going to be okay. I’m right here.’
I knew he wanted to talk. To object and argue and fight and say fuck you to fate. None of it would come. The man was done. Cheat death all you want, it’ll find you one day.
He let out one final breath. His soul departed, destined for the next life. And all that remained was the shell. Cold and still. I kept hold of his hand. Squeezed lifeless fingers. Tried to quell the rush of emotion in my chest. The man I had been sent to kill was dead. My mission was almost complete. But looking into his eyes, I felt nothing but the icy grip of sorrow. It froze me in place, transfixed and traumatised.
Something else thawed it out. Something white hot and barbaric.
Rage.
I had a new mission now. I wanted blood.
I ran my fingers across Cage’s eyelids, and folded his arms across his chest. I looked at the watch on his wrist. The screen had cracked, but the hands still worked. Broken but unbeaten. I said a silent prayer, for Cage and for Lee. Then I left.
I returned to the ladder and looked at it. Thought about my plan. Thought about what else I could do. Steal a vehicle and flee, live to fight another day. Or fight tonight and go down swinging.
With the hammer in one hand, I checked the tools. I took a screwdriver and an axe. They would do the job. Maximum impact. No need for the ladder. Not anymore. I was going through the door.
I stormed back out into the night. I gave Cage’s body one last look. The blood on his chest and in the snow looked oddly grey in the moonlight, like he was already beginning to fade away. With his hands crossed over his torso, he looked at peace. The light of the moon glinted off the face of his watch. Broken but unbeaten. And an idea drifted into my head.
I returned to his body, took hold of his wrist and undid the strap of the watch. I felt bad stealing from the dead, but I thought he would approve, given the circumstances. I returned to the workshop once more and checked the drawers. I needed a screwdriver, smaller than the one in my pocket. I found what I needed amongst a set of mismatched tools and under the light of the moon I worked the screws on the back of the watch.
The battery came out with ease, just as I’d hoped it would. I checked it over, and found what I was looking for. The plan was going to work. I picked up the rest of the watch and returned it to Cage. I rested it on his chest, right over the bullet wound. Stared one final time into his lifeless eyes. Then I averted my gaze. I couldn’t look at him again. And I headed for the courthouse.
The lights were still on inside, which either made sense or it didn’t, depending what time it was. I had no goddamn idea. Night was most of my life now, and it lasted right until the sun poked up its head for a couple of hours. I skirted around to the back, to my two new best friends. They were still standing by the rear entrance. Neither moving so much as a muscle to look and see if anyone was coming at them from a side. Fine by me. If they had a death wish, I’d grant it for them.
With the hammer in my left hand, the axe in my right, and the pistol and screwdriver tucked into my pockets, I found the biggest, widest tree that was close enough to the sentries, and I swung the hammer. The impact on the trunk was dull. It made a sound like a thwump. Branches higher up the tree jiggled and rustled. A couple of them tumbled down and landed in the snow beside me.
I hit it again. Same spot. Same result. Thwump. Jiggle. Tumble. Then I hit it again, and again, and again. I peered around the side of the tree towards the two sentries. Neither seemed interested in the noise. They were hardly the brightest sparks, but I would light them up soon enough.
I checked the tree and ran my thumb across the spot I’d hit. A small indentation had formed in the bark. I pulled out the watch battery and tried it against the dent. It was a little too big to fit, so I hit the tree a few more times with the hammer. Thwump. Thwump. Thwump. And tried again.
The battery slotted right in, locked into place by the surrounding unbeaten bits of bark. Perfect. I sheathed the hammer for a spell and pulled out the screwdriver. The handle, just like all the other tools, was made of wood. It would survive what I wanted to do. I lined it up with the centre of the watch’s battery and took out the hammer once more.
It took one single tap of the hammer on the screwdriver to pierce a hole in the battery shell. Lithium batteries are like petulant children. Easy to go off. Rupturing the shell destroys the protective circuit, which causes the energy-dense lithium ions to go into overdrive.
I leapt back and darted into the trees as the battery ignited. Infinitely bright and incredibly dangerous, the lithium ions, spurred by the rush of oxygen, went up in flames.
I heard the two sentries shout and move. The blaze was like that of a campfire, which in the dar
kness that stretched out ad infinitum ahead of them must have looked like a rocket set to launch. I ran until I was out of the range of the glow, then I turned and started to loop back around.
They reached the flame as I was at the nine o’clock position. Two guns raised up and targeted the burning battery like it had the sentience to have made its way there and gone up in flames all of its own accord. Then they turned and started scanning around. The guy on the left pointed his weapon to six o’clock while his partner covered three o’clock. Neither man looked at good old nine o’clock, ten o’clock, eleven, twelve.
I swung the door open and darted inside before either man came to their senses, and shut it behind me as quietly as I could. I was in a corridor that stretched out in either direction. Directly ahead of me was a wall, on the other side of which was the stairs that led up to the second floor, and Cage’s office. Which was my new destination for two reasons. The first being that it was the most likely place I would find Cece. The second reason was that I knew what Cage’s dying message meant, and I wanted to know why he told me.
I went left. Because when given two possible choices that led to the same outcome, I always thought left was the best option. Most right-handed people will automatically drift right, which meant the likelihood of running into someone was marginally bigger going that way. So left it was.
As I reached the corner, I poked my head out and scanned the corridor ahead. No one. Down the lefthand wall were a series of doors. If the right side of the courthouse was made up by the room I had been tried in, then it stood to reason that behind these doors were a series of equally large rooms. I tried the first door. It was locked. Hopefully no one was going to burst out and attack me from behind as I continued.
The corridor opened up into the atrium I had walked through several times before. A group of people milled around, waiting for something. No way to get past them without being spotted. I took a step back so no one could see me and thought.
‘Back for the ladder?’ asked the Wolf.