Fireteam Delta

by J. F. Halpin

  Summers shook out his right hand, almost thankful for the break. He looked back to Cortez and Orvar’s fight just as Cortez landed a solid hit to the man’s side. He crumpled to the ground, wheezing, and Summers cringed in sympathy.

  It looked like Cortez was apologizing to him. After a moment, he waved her off, struggling to his feet and putting his hands up as if nothing happened. They fought like that for a while as Summers watched.

  After some time, sleep finally took him.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  Summers sat in the back of a dark cell, long hair covering his face. The cop who had booked him was pacing nearby, glancing in his direction every so often. Summers hadn’t said a word to the man since they’d caught him.

  The cop finally stopped pacing, moving to the front of his cell.

  “Come on, kid. Just give us your parents’ number.”

  There was a knock on the door, and the cop looked at Summers one last time before he moved off.

  He heard muffled voices; one was a woman’s. Someone . . . familiar.

  The cop returned a few minutes later, unlocking the cell door.

  “Follow me.”

  He was led to the front of the station, where a woman was waiting for him. His mother. He couldn’t see her face, but somehow, he knew it was her.

  “You know I should beat your ass, right?” The woman looked at him sternly.

  He didn’t respond.

  She spoke with the man behind the desk for a few minutes more before they left. He didn’t hear what they said. He didn’t care.

  Outside, the woman started toward a car. She moved slowly, as if walking was a strain for her. She rubbed at her head, covered only with a scarf.

  “You’d better drive.”

  Summers nodded. He opened the passenger side door for her, and the woman all but collapsed into her seat.

  They drove in silence for a long time before Summers got up the courage to speak.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You better be,” she answered. She must have seen the look on his face, because her expression softened. “Your father told me what happened. Was this your idea, or his?”

  “Mine.”

  “Why?” She looked at him. “We’re fine on money.”

  “No, we’re not,” Summers answered. “We’re never fine.”

  “We’re doing well enough.”

  “Why doesn’t he help us? Help you?” Summers asked.

  “Because my life is none of his business.” She rubbed at her head again. “I wouldn’t lift a finger to help him, either.” She sighed.

  “Was it expensive? To get me out?”

  “They caught you with three pounds of hamburger down your pants.” She leaned back in her seat. “No, and I don’t think they’re going to throw the book at you.”

  They sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching the road.

  “Alex, you know I love you, right?” His mother looked at him. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re a huge pain in the ass sometimes,” she chided.

  “I know.”

  She reached over, squeezing his shoulder.

  “But I’ll always be cheering you on, even if I’m not here.” She smiled. “I love you. And when I’m gone, promise me you’ll remember that, okay?”

  “I love you too, Mom.”

  They talked a lot after that, and Summers thought a lot. He kept his eyes forward, looking at the road in front of him.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  “Port ahead!” one of the deckhands yelled, waking Summers from his sleep.

  Summers stared at the man in a daze before he understood what was happening.

  “Shit.”

  He started looking for his journal. It wasn’t in his lap anymore. He’d fallen asleep on the deck, and it must have rolled off.

  “Don’t forget,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t forget, don’t forget . . .”

  He spent another moment searching frantically before he saw Asle a few feet away from him, his journal still in her hands. She held it out to him.

  “You talk in your sleep,” Asle explained.

  He took the journal, looking at the small, neat handwriting on the pages. It looked like a conversation— parts he could still remember, parts that were fading.

  “Thank you.” Summers breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t everything, but it was more than he’d have been able to do. He wrote for a moment longer before he was satisfied.

  “There’s not a lot in there.” Asle looked at him, still tense.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “I know.”

  That was the most worrying part for him, not knowing what else he could write. It could be the panic, the pressure of having to record everything in his head overwhelming him. Or those memories could already be gone.

  How much could he lose before he wasn’t himself anymore?

  Summers looked at the city in the distance, the sailors around them hustling to get the ship ready to dock.

  Synel was standing on the bow. She must have heard him, as she looked back. He saw the corner of her mouth twitch ever so slightly as she approached.

  “Good, you’re awake.” She sat down beside him, wincing as she did. “I was speaking with your friends, and I think we might have found a solution to your problem.”

  “What?” Summers blinked once, still half asleep, before the words fully registered.

  She handed him a small sheet of paper, words in Nos scribbled onto it.

  “What’s this?”

  “A shopping list.” She pressed a finger to her lips in thought. “No, actually, more like a menu.”

  Chapter 33: Takeout

  Summers waited as Synel spoke to an elven man behind a stall. She had assured them her contacts in the city could support their search. And frankly, he was a little flattered she was so adamant about helping him.

  He glanced back down at the short list in his hands, three creatures Synel had thought may be able to fix his condition. Much like their philosophy on dueling, the elves believed that eating a powerful creature would lend you a degree of its strength. Ironic, given that that was exactly what Summers was trying to do. So, the problem wasn’t finding them, per se. It was more an issue of the cost.

  The creatures Synel had suggested were some of the most dangerous, and therefore most expensive, in the region. There was a market for them, but it was an exclusive one that catered mostly to nobility and the most affluent merchants. A single monster could cost as much as three stones, and that was just for a taste.

  “You smell that?” Nowak wrinkled his nose as a ribbon of smoke passed by.

  “You know I do,” Summers responded.

  A stall nearly twenty feet away was selling some of the most horrific kebobs Summers had ever seen. Something like giant insects spit-roasted and grilled over an open flame. They also had the distinct scent of rotten meat.

  Actually, now that he was looking at it properly, he’d seen them before. They were the same insects that created the skin-walkers. Knowing what they were made the somehow appetizing scent all the more disturbing.

  “I don’t like leaving the boat unguarded,” Cortez muttered. “We’re just asking to get our shit taken away from us again.”

  “It’s only for a day,” Nowak explained. “And Summers told the captain to take off if he runs into any trouble. We should be fine. Besides, the more people we have on this, the faster it should go.”

  Nowak looked to Summers, more than a little worry in his eyes.

  Before Summers could respond, Synel turned from the stall, heading back in their direction.

  “How’d it go?” Summers looked to the woman who was clearly not happy.

  “I have a few leads. However, I have a feeling this won’t be easy.” Synel had already begun counting through a coin pouch at her side, before tucking it back into her robe.

  “We still have a stone or two left, don’t we?” Summers looked to Nowak.

  “That won’
t be enough,” Synel countered. “In fact, I don’t know if even I have the funds for it. And let me assure you, I have been remarkably successful as of late.” She patted the pouch in her vest for emphasis.

  Summers glanced at the crowd around them.

  “You sure you should be saying that so loud?”

  “Oh, please. You could break them in half if they tried.” Synel spoke even louder, watching the crowd mill around them. “Besides, I happen to take pride in my work.”

  “Fair enough,” Summers conceded.

  “Money isn’t our only concern. It seems that while some of these creatures were on the market recently, they’ve already been sold. Given that we’re on a tight schedule”—Synel reached for the paper she’d given Summers, tearing it into three neat strips—“I suggest we split up and try to track down the buyers.”

  “I can take one,” Asle offered, reaching up as Synel handed her a section.

  “All right,” Nowak began. “Summers, you and Synel should pair off. I can take the privates, and . . . Asle, think you could translate for me?”

  Asle nodded in response.

  “I can take Orvar.” Cortez nodded to the man at her side. “I’ve been teaching him English and got enough of the local language down to get by.”

  “Fuckin’ eh,” Orvar agreed, with a heavy accent and surprisingly formal tone.

  Summers didn’t even try to address that and instead handed Cortez the last strip of their list.

  “Guys, are we sure this is worth it?” Summers looked down to the strip of paper in his hands. “I mean, it might be better—”

  “Nope,” Cortez interrupted. “Either it works, or it doesn’t. Not taking shit from you until we see what happens.”

  “This one’s not up to a vote, Corporal,” Nowak emphasized the rank. “My job’s to get as many of my people back home in as few pieces as possible. That includes what’s in your head. You’d lose the vote, anyway.”

  Summers sighed, looking out to the city in front of them.

  “All right, then. Let’s get started.”

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  Synel guided Summers through a maze of stalls and wagons. The building actually reminded him more of a modern mall than a market. It was a large, half-circle structure filled with alcoves the merchants used to display their goods.

  “So, what’s this thing supposed to do?” Summers looked at Synel questioningly.

  “It is a creature with a legendarily tough hide. In fact, every bit of it seems armored,” Synel explained.

  “Uh huh, and you think that will help me?”

  “I once saw a spear shatter while stabbing into this creature’s heart. Just the heart, mind you. So yes, I think it’s worth exploring. Now, stay here, please.” Synel gestured to a stall in the corner. “When you see me signal you, walk over and offer around fifty silver more than I am.”

  “What?” Summers looked at the woman, confused.

  “Just trust me.” She leaned forward, kissing his cheek before she moved in the opposite direction of the stall.

  Summers watched her approach a small boy, handing him a handful of coins and directing him toward the same stall.

  She passed Summers again.

  “I forgot to ask, does it matter what cut we get?”

  That was a good question, and Summers thought a moment before responding. He trailed a hand up to his now long, elf-like ears.

  “Blood . . . or something in the head. Since that’s what I’m trying to fix.” Summers tapped the side of his skull.

  The woman didn’t seem to understand, but she nodded after a moment. “Head it is, then. Ah, right.” She reached into her coat and handed him a small pouch of coins. “Just in case you don’t have enough.”

  Summers felt the weight of the pouch in his hands. There had to be a small fortune in there. By the time he looked up again, she was at the stall, speaking with the older elf behind it.

  They spoke for some time before the man moved to the back, taking what was unmistakably a horn and placing it gently on the counter in front of him. It was as big as Summers’ chest, with some kind of gold metalwork ringing the bone.

  He assumed it was something like a drinking horn.

  Synel waved a hand behind her back. Summers took that as his signal and started forward. As he did, the same boy Synel had spoken to earlier darted by, grabbing for the tray with the horn on it. The kid clearly didn’t have a grip on it, though; the horn tumbled to the ground as Synel screamed, some of its contents spilling onto the stone ground before the merchant was able to right it again. By the time he looked up, the kid had already disappeared into the crowd.

  Summers watched the scene for only a moment before he saw Synel’s hand gesturing for him again.

  Synel spoke loudly, telling the shopkeeper off for his carelessness and refusing to pay full price. Summers took the hint as he approached the counter himself.

  “Excuse me . . .”

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  Summers sat with the drinking horn over his shoulder, Synel by his side as they watched the bustle of the marketplace.

  “I can’t believe that worked.” Summers felt at the horn. Apparently, it was part of the actual monster.

  “Why wouldn’t it? I happen to be very good at this.” Synel turned up her nose at him, and he laughed for a moment before catching himself. Synel blushed in response.

  In the end, Summers had still spent two stone on the horn, most of which had been Synel’s money.

  “Thank you. Even if this doesn’t work, please don’t let me forget that I owe you big time.” Summers gave the woman a slight bow.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she assured him.

  Summers opened the horn with a pop, brushing a small coating of dirt off the lip. Inside was a wine-red liquid, small pieces of something floating inside.

  “What’s in this?” Summers wrinkled his nose.

  The smell wasn’t unpleasant, but it was definitely not something he was used to.

  “It’s an alcohol of the creature’s blood and . . . soft tissue,” Synel explained. “It’s not terribly strong. You should be fine.”

  “Tissue? From its head?”

  Synel nodded after a moment.

  Great, he was going to drink brain slushie.

  Synel shifted in her seat, watching him.

  “How long will it take?” Synel looked at him as he considered the horn. “For you to . . . change, I mean.”

  “I have no idea,” Summers answered. “But . . . one way to find out.”

  After another moment, he put the horn to his lips and drank.

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  Asle sat leaning against a wall as Nowak and “Pat” spoke with the merchant beside her.

  “I have proven to you who I am, and I can promise you generous payment later if you’d simply sell to us now,” Pat spoke in a pleading tone.

  Asle already knew the man wasn’t going to accept the deal. Pat had produced a small signet ring that acted as a pedigree for the northern tribes. Mr. Nowak had thought that was a bad move, but in truth, the gray army’s cities were largely independent. Since news of the war in the north hadn’t yet reached here, the man had no reason to trust Pat’s word that it was over.

  Asle jumped as one of the animals in a cage at her side let out a small growl. Ms. Synel had told her the creature they were looking for was often sold to the arenas for a high price, so they’d come to one of the arena’s suppliers. The man, however, was what Ms. Cortez would refer to as an “asshole.”

  “Either you have the coin up front or no deal. I’m not risking my reputation on a soft sale.” The merchant looked down his nose at Pat.

  The creature itself was widely sought after for Bestiarius, warriors who fought beasts in the arena. It was able to heal itself from even the most serious injuries in just a short time, meaning that one creature could easily fight in half a dozen battles before it died.

  It wa
s an incredible value for the arena and was paid for as such.

  A cheer erupted in the distance. Even here, they could hear the crowd from the arena. The twins flanking her looked toward the sound.

  All at once, Asle was struck with inspiration. She moved over to Nowak, tugging on his shirt.

  “I think I have a better idea.” She turned to the twins. “Did you bring your guns?”

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  Summers held a cloak low over his head.

  “I can’t fucking believe this.”

  “It’s not . . . that bad.” Synel tried to comfort him.

  She reached over to pull the cloak back. Summers’ head had two large, horn-like nubs growing out of the increasingly pale skin. In fact, what had started as a small patch of leathery skin was quickly spreading.

  “I look like I death metal cover.” Summers pulled back at the cloak.

  Synel looked at him questioningly.

  “It’s bad,” he clarified.

  “The . . . horns are coming in quite nicely,” Synel consoled.

  “I have horns?” Summers reached for his head to feel the two nubs that were forming. “I have fucking horns!”

  Synel stared at him, clear worry in her eyes.

  “We should find the others.”

  <<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

  The cheering of the crowd was nearly deafening as Asle looked over the arena. She watched as the twins stepped into the sand-covered ring, a metal gate slamming shut behind them. Nowak and Pat stood behind her, both clearly nervous.

  “I’m still not sure about this.” Nowak looked to the girl.

  “Didn’t you say they needed practice?” Asle countered.

  “Practice isn’t . . .” Nowak started, but trailed off.

  The arena masters had been skeptical when they’d asked to sign up for an impromptu match. That was until they’d demonstrated the power of their weapons. If there was anything the arena thrived on, it was novelty. She’d had Pat introduce the group as a band of traveling warriors, giving not-so-subtle hints that they’d be interested in staying in the city for some time, assuming there was enough coin in the deal, and of course, the right to their kill.

  They certainly had no intention of coming back after today, but the arena masters didn’t need to know that.