Rescue Mission

by Linda Jordan

  There was no way out now.

  Cady looked at Mazzy. Who looked at her.

  “Shit,” said Mazzy. “Run, fight or hide?”

  Cady shone her small flashlight around. The room they were in was small. Only a fake wood table, some ancient plastic chairs and a refrigerator. Nowhere to hide. She switched it off.

  There was no hiding out in the main warehouse. It was all straight rows and the pallets were placed to close together.

  She heard footsteps above them and more yelling.

  The dragon came into her mind and howled, “Run! Fight! Go!”

  “Run and fight,” said Cady. “Nowhere to hide. They’ll check here soon.”

  “Ryan, as soon and you can, make a break for it and make sure that hole in the fence is open. Those of us with guns, give Will and Tank some cover. They’ll need to move slower with the stretcher.”

  Cady pulled out her handgun and held it in her left hand. She wasn’t quite as accurate with it, but better two guns than one. They opened the door and ran out of the room and around the corner to the front entrance. Mateo and Sharine first. They were able to take out the two guards coming back down the stairs.

  They kept running. Ryan sprinted for the fence line. Followed by Will and Tank. Mateo and Sharine, the best shots, let others pass them and moved to the rear. Guards flowed out the building, followed by the slight man without much power.

  He stood apart, trying to gather his power.

  Mazzy stood near Cady and she raised one hand and zapped him with a spell of something that made him fall to his knees. Cady hadn’t known Mazzy had that much magic.

  They ran again. The guards followed and so did the black woman in gold. She swirled her arms and down came a heavy golden net, over them. It twined around them, inhibiting all large movement.

  Cady kept shooting and went for the stiletto in her boot, but never made it. As the net dropped over them, the black woman said something Cady didn’t understand and she felt herself lose consciousness.

  5

  Damon

  Damon, Morrigu and her guards stood on alert outside Roosevelt’s warehouse. Santoni had fled when the gunfire started. Little bastard.

  The scuffle they’d arrived in the middle of had put everyone’s back up. Damon felt twitchy. He wanted to make someone pay for putting Morrigu in the middle of this. There was no way for him to do that. It had been Roosevelt’s incompetence. And Morrigu was bringing herself ever closer to the man. For reasons Damon couldn’t understand.

  It was about some larger plan she had and wasn’t sharing with him. Some plan for world domination. Or at least this small world.

  He breathed deeply, trying to maintain control of himself and let out all the excess energy. The other guards were doing the same. Taking their cues from him. Morrigu was studying the scene. Plotting and planning, as she often did. He didn’t understand the goddess at all.

  In the middle of the road lay several people seemingly asleep, covered with a gold net. Roosevelt and the sorceress were talking. His guards reaching through the net, taking the prisoners’ weapons.

  One of Roosevelt’s advisors, Jack, explained to Morrigu what was happening.

  “These people are local villagers, trying to rescue the man who Roosevelt caught and was holding. That man has now escaped, along with a few other villagers, but Roosevelt’s sorcerer has caught about half of the villagers. They are mostly unharmed.”

  Roosevelt was furious, his face puffing up like it was about to blow. He was giving his head of security a dressing down. Not just for the escapees, but also for the second intrusion in a week. The guy stood with his head down, knowing he’d screwed up royally.

  Damon would have handled that in private. It wasn’t good to show your weaknesses to others.

  Roosevelt’s sorcerer was amazing. To catch so many and not harm a one. Roosevelt’s goons had managed to wound one of them, but that’s all the damage they’d been able to do.

  Santoni should have been helping guard Morrigu. She needed to replace him. Damon wanted to fire his ass. And then kill him. But he didn’t have the power to do it.

  Only Morrigu did. Damon hoped she’d get rid of him sooner rather than later. He suspected she kept Santoni around because he wasn’t strong enough to threaten her power. Damon wasn’t sure if it would be wise to remind her that wasn’t a good strategy. He’d do it anyway.

  Roosevelt’s sorcerer removed the net from the prisoners and Morrigu’s guards dragged them to one of Morrigu’s warehouses. One with cells below ground, one for each of the prisoners.

  Damon organized the guard duty and called the doctor to see to the prisoner’s gunshot wound. He arranged for food and water.

  Damon stood inside one of the interrogation rooms. Waiting for Morrigu and Roosevelt. And whoever Roosevelt decided to bring. Probably, his sorcerer.

  The room was a pasty green color which annoyed him. It was supposed to be calming, so the suspect or victim would talk. That wouldn’t have worked for him.

  The place smelled too clean. The lights shone too bright. He wanted out of here. The dungeon, as Morrigu called it, always made him feel trapped. There was only one way in and out. If they were attacked down here, there was no quick escape. And the situation was even more irritating.

  There was really no sense to any of this. They should just let the people go. They were villagers. The only reason for their presence here was to rescue one of their own. Morrigu had told Damon about Roosevelt’s version of the events that led up to this. She said he was being cagey and untruthful. Apparently, the locals had wanted to buy alcohol from him. Roosevelt said they snuck in like thieves. Probably not the case. Roosevelt had just found the seer and wanted to justify keeping him. Chased the others off, not thinking of the consequences.

  Damon didn’t want to wage a meaningless war with the locals. That would be a pointless, probably un-winnable war. The villagers had something to fight for that was dear to them: family, friends and their homes. Not worth battling them for those.

  Morrigu swept into the room, dressed in green velvet pants and tunic. Her feet in green suede boots. A huge rough cut emerald hung from a silver chain around her neck.

  She sat in one of the green plastic chairs, flipping her long, dark hair back. The guard following her, handed Morrigu a cup of tea, then left to stand outside the room.

  She looked at Damon and gave a heavy sigh.

  “I know. This is ridiculous. We’ll let him play for awhile and then I’ll rein him in.”

  “If he hurts any of them, the village won’t forget it,” said Damon.

  “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  “No, but I don’t think we should go courting trouble. Especially from those who aren’t our enemies. It’s one thing to go against your competitors. Another thing to go against his. And it’s foolish to create a war with your neighbors where there wasn’t one. They’ve always kept to themselves and left us alone. I think we should toss them out and forget about them.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Advisor.”

  He stiffened inside. Was that an insult, putting him in his place? Or was it a term of endearment? He could never tell with her.

  She said, “Santoni has been found at the Castle. You were looking for him, I believe.”

  Damon nodded.

  The Castle was Morrigu’s main warehouse. Idiot. the man probably didn’t even know he’d done anything wrong.

  There were voices in the hallway. Roosevelt. His loud voice boomed through the lower level of the warehouse. Damon stood behind Morrigu, at attention.

  Roosevelt’s bulk entered the door, making the frame look small. He came in and plunked down in the chair opposite Morrigu. Evangeline followed, taking a place between Roosevelt and the wall. Both of them looked angry.

  “Four men wounded,” Roosevelt growled. “Those villagers are gonna pay.”

  “For what?” asked Morrigu. “Rescuing their friend who came to buy alcohol from you? A man who you wante
d to keep, but who didn’t want to stay? Is this the war you really want to fight?”

  “Hell yes.”

  “What about your plans to go after your competitors? You don’t have enough of an army to fight on two fronts.”

  Roosevelt just stared at her.

  Morrigu said, “You know I’m right. I’m a goddess of war. Your people outnumbered the villagers and yet, five or six got away. You caught five with the skill of your sorcerer, not your guards. They shot one and four of them got shot. I don’t think they’re ready for a fight. Any fight. They’ve grown soft in the years there’s been no war.”

  Damon watch Roosevelt closely. The man looked ready to blow again. He glanced at Evangeline. She looked alert and ready for anything. He’d only seen her a handful to times, but she always looked that way. Too bad Morrigu hadn’t hired her before Roosevelt had. Evangeline was capable.

  He felt Morrigu’s power reach out to calm Roosevelt.

  She said, “Perhaps if you had ten or more sorcerers with the skill of this one, you might be able to dispatch the villagers and move on to your competitors. But to what end? Bothering with the villagers gains you nothing. No power, no resources. They are poor people, living on the edge. Let them be and concentrate on your competitors. Train your army.”

  Roosevelt softened a bit

  “What do we do with them?” he asked. “You’re right, of course. I don’t have time for a war with them. I need to attack my competitors before they become more entrenched.”

  “Let them go,” said Morrigu. “I’ll make sure they get back home. We have war plans to make.”

  “We?” asked Roosevelt.

  “You asked to change our agreement. To share everything. There is the alcohol and drug war. And also the trap to lure my competition out here. We must plan both. And see which one is more effective to fight first.”

  Damon felt the energy in the room shift. He didn’t know if it was Morrigu or Roosevelt. Suddenly there was a relief. A feeling of energy moving forward instead of sideways. Magic swirled through the air. Damon couldn’t do magic, but he could sense it. This felt overpowering and easy to notice.

  It didn’t feel like Morrigu. He wasn’t as familiar with Roosevelt’s magic. And surely, if it was Evangeline, she would be more subtle. She seemed to be an all or nothing sort of person.

  He looked at her and she stood there, staring at the wall. Like a good bodyguard should do when overhearing an intimate conversation.

  “Let us plan, then,” said Roosevelt.

  “Damon, I’d like you personally to see to the release of the prisoners. Take the bus and drive them back home. See they get there safely, and smooth things over. Roosevelt, can we give them a case or two of wine?”

  Roosevelt waved his hand. “Give them five. Evangeline, go with him. I want you to make sure the village is not a threat to us.”

  “Good idea,” said Morrigu.

  Damon bowed and hoped there wasn’t a hidden message in Roosevelt’s words.

  Evangeline followed him out of the room.

  Damon went to the guard center, just outside the cells.

  “Gather the prisoners,” he said to one of the guards. To the other, “Gather up their belongings and return them. Keep all the weapons separate.”

  Then Damon spoke into his wristband, calling Eamon, the guard who oversaw transportation. “Get the van, go to Roosevelt’s warehouse. “What number is it?” he asked Evangeline.

  She said, “Number ten, I’ll go arrange the wine and meet the van on the loading dock, before we come back here.”

  Damon nodded, but she was already gone.

  “Go to number 10. Pick up five cases of wine and Roosevelt’s sorcerer. Then come to the Dungeon to pick me and the prisoners up.”

  “Where we going, boss?”

  “We’re taking them home. Bring a couple of guards who are on the mellow side, but smart and seasoned. Just in case there’s trouble. Unarmed guards.”

  “Will do. See you in ten,” said Eamon.

  Damon had the guard let him inside the cell complex. The five prisoners stood outside their rooms, each of them in brown jumpsuits. One of them, an older woman, looked ashen. She leaned against the wall. The guard stood at the other end of the hall.

  “Get this woman a chair,” he said to the guard, who rushed off to find one.

  The guard returned quickly with a chair and the older woman sank down into it. Damon knew her. He couldn’t place her though. But something was very familiar. Not the long gray hair though.

  “I’m Damon and I work for Morrigu. She is not responsible for your capture. Or for your friend, the seer’s capture either. However, she has persuaded Roosevelt to let you go. Neither of them wants a war with our neighbors. The guards will take you back to your cells and return your belongings. Once you’ve changed, we will take you home.”

  A tall woman, maybe part Japanese, asked, “That makes no sense.”

  Damon shrugged, “Sometimes Roosevelt makes no sense.”

  “Why did he keep Sam?” asked a dark-skinned stocky man.

  “If I understand right, Roosevelt wanted him because is a seer. I believe he first tried to talk your friend into joining him. When that didn’t work, he tried force and imprisonment.”

  The second guard came into the back, with bags of clothing. He passed them around until the prisoners each held their own.

  “Where are our weapons?” asked the older woman, her steely gray eyes boring into him.

  “Your weapons will be returned once we’ve reached your village,” said Damon. “We’d like to get you home in one piece.”

  “How do we know this isn’t a trick?” asked the older woman. “That you want us to take you to the village so you can wipe us all out?”

  “Morrigu would never allow such a thing. Both she and Roosevelt have other fish to fry,” said Damon.

  “And she controls Roosevelt?” asked the older woman.

  She was feisty.

  “Not completely, but she has the ability to talk some sense into him,” said Damon

  He was done. Not going to discuss this any more. He gestured to the guards to herd them back into their cells to change.

  “Bring them up when I call.”

  Damon took the elevator to the main floor and went outside, the black van was already there. The driver, Eamon, Evangeline sitting in the seat opposite him, and the two guards seated in the back. Eamon opened the front, and only, door of the van. The black color of the van had turned yellow, covered with tree pollen. It coated everything this time of year.

  Damon stood in the fresh morning air. He was tired. Wanted to sleep. Or at least, eat some breakfast. The wind blew past, promising more rain. He hoped the roads to the village were asphalt or concrete. He didn’t want to be pushing the van out of a muddy rut.

  The door opened behind him and one guard led the prisoners out, the other one followed. He carried five rifles, most with suppressors Damon noticed, and a bag of other weapons.

  The old woman hopped on one leg, between the dark-skinned man and a blond woman, her arms over both their shoulders. Morrigu’s doctor told Damon that he’d gotten a bullet out of the old woman’s right thigh, It had been sewn up and bandaged. Luckily, nothing was broken and the arteries had been missed by the bullet. But that muscle would hurt for quite a while. The doctor had given her a pain killer, but that had probably worn off by now. Unfortunately, no one had been motivated to find her some crutches.

  Two of the prisoners climbed into the black van and took seats. The other two who were helping the older woman, couldn’t get her inside.

  Damon said, “Allow me.” He picked up the woman and carried her into the van and set her into a seat.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking flustered. He expected she wasn’t used to being helped.

  Damon dug into a pocket and took a pill out. He offered it to the woman.

  “Now you’re trying to poison me?” she asked.

  “It’s a painkiller
. Won’t knock you out or make you sleepy. These are what I use.”

  She glared at him, but took it anyway.

  “For all I know, you’re the one who shot me,” she said, before swallowing the pill. “But thank you. Again.”

  “I wasn’t part of that firefight. None of Morrigu’s guards were. We weren’t responsible for you getting shot.” Then he straightened and said to everyone, “Now, can someone tell Eamon, our driver, where we’re going?”

  The tall Asian woman stood and walked up to the driver. They talked and she returned to her seat, moving with a grace he rarely saw in tall people. The guards had finished loading the villagers’ weapons into the back, and closed the hatch.

  Damon took a seat in the middle, across from the older woman. He buckled the seat belt. Many of the passengers weren’t buckled in. Eamon turned on the engine and yelled, “Buckle up, everyone!”

  Some did and the prisoners didn’t.

  Eamon stood and said, “This van doesn’t move until everyone’s buckled up.” He waited until everyone was buckled up, then sat down and drove.

  They went past the long row of warehouses, then cut right towards the front gate. Then right again, twice, driving north past the Zoo. A small plane landed on the runway. Another shipment, probably for Roosevelt. Morrigu didn’t have anything scheduled today.

  Eamon drove north for a mile or two, then turned off onto one of the small side roads. It was mostly asphalt. Where the road had buckled from the quake, someone had removed the broken asphalt and put gravel down. At least it wasn’t completely muddy.

  They drove past ruined, sagging houses. Tall trees and blackberry thickets filled what must have once been people’s gardens. Nature reclaiming the land. Even the sidewalks had vanished beneath ivy. Damon had been told that the blackberries and ivy were imported from other countries. Out of their ecosystem, they had become invaders in their new home.