by Justin Sloan
“We’re sailors, of course we can get rope.”
“Have them bring it to the square.” She took one of the blankets and wrapped it around a body, then hefted it over her shoulder. “Bring ’em all.”
The group carried the bodies through the streets, earning a number of very curious, very disgusted glances. The blankets didn’t cover everything, just enough to keep the carriers clean. Cammie wanted them all to see.
By the time they had reached the square they had quite the following. She estimated that at least eighty percent of the community was there, which would be plenty for her purposes.
Placing the bodies on top of the blankets at her feet so they were on full display, Cammie began pacing, eyes on the dead. William and his crew stood behind her with their hands clasped. Finally she looked up at the crowd, and the low chatter instantly ceased.
This would be enough, she decided. Enough to spread the word to those who weren’t here.
“Last night, these people thought to make a move against us,” she began, voice raised barely above speaking level. She knew they would listen. “There are two more dead out at the field. I’m here to tell you that this will not be tolerated, that any act of treason against your captain—Valerie—will be punishable by instant death. You should not worry about it in general, because all of you should be happy to live in peace, to thrive in this new system where we do not murder or steal. But let’s be clear: you are now under martial law.”
She turned, gesturing to William. “These are my right-hand men and women. They will form what nicer communities than this would term a neighborhood watch. The difference here is that instead of reporting you to the police, they are the police. Royland and I are the executioners. And believe me, you do not want to meet death the way we would introduce you to her.”
“What makes you better than the Prince?” an old man called from the back of the crowd.
“He was fine and dandy with an animalistic society. I…am not. I’m not Valerie, whom you only met briefly. I would love to have the same patience and trust she does, but that’s just not the case for me.” Cammie stood before them, thumbs in the waistband of her pants, staring down each one in turn. “I am here to ensure your safety, if you’re one of the good guys. You want to be a villain,” she gestured to the dead, “feel free to join the losing team.”
The man seemed okay with that, though some others were exchanging nervous looks.
“Here’s how we’re doing this.” Cammie shouted now, to show how serious she was about all of this. “Each of you will now swear loyalty, but not to me. To each other!”
A few people in the front rows nodded, murmuring in support, which brought a smile to her face.
“We are family now, whether you like it or not,” she continued. “Family doesn’t turn on each other. Family protects each other, defends each other. Are you with me!”
More cheers now, and even the ones in the back seemed to be getting into it.
“Good,” she said as the noise died down. “Because if any of you want to leave right now, you can. You can run west, find another community out there. I promise you, anyone who wants to can leave right now.” She paused, letting that sink in. “But if the day comes that we cross paths again and you stand against us, you will die.”
Nobody moved. She put her hands behind her back, waiting and watching, almost hoping that at least one person would go. Then she would know they weren’t staying out of fear that she might go against her word and lash out.
She would just have to ensure they all kept their word then.
“Very well,” she called to them. “Take a knee, as I will, and repeat after me.” They all did, and soon she had them swearing to never turn on each other, to be the family they had never had, and to form a partnership that none could break. They would be brothers and sisters now, led by Royland and herself.
When the rope arrived she had them hang the bodies of the others at the outskirts of town, where most visitors would cross the water. Then, having a bit of fun with it, she used her Were claws to carve a warning sign into a plank of wood.
The sign read, Pirates, go fuck yourselves.
When it was over she let her claws retract, brushed her hands on her pants, and paused, looking across the water to the mainland. There, just visible to her because of her Were sight, was a man. He stood in the shadows of a tree, simply staring at them and the island.
“Everything okay?” William asked, coming up beside her.
“We’re being watched,” she replied, “which could be good or bad.”
The man turned and walked away, and soon was gone from sight. She would have to find out who he was, though not necessarily today.
“Set up a couple people to keep watch tonight,” she told William, then turned to her followers. “Don’t suppose pirates keep any sort of beverage that a bunch of former pirates and I can partake of? Drinks on me!”
A roar of approval rose and they all made their way back to raid the storerooms where the Prince had kept his booze.
“You know,” William said as he downed his fourth cup. “You might not be so bad at this leadership thing after all.”
“Tell me again when your head’s pounding in the morning,” she told him, throwing back her drink as well. Of course, she didn’t tell anyone it was water; she had made a good show of appearing to drink the alcohol.
They would learn to trust each other. They would learn to be family, but she sure as hell didn’t trust them that much yet, she thought with a chuckle. She was starting to like them, though. For now, that was enough.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Toro Inner City
Robin wasn’t about to sit around wondering what had happened to her parents any longer, not if there was a chance she could find them this very night. The only problem was, she had no idea where to start.
Before heading out she had given descriptions of her parents, as she had last seen them anyway, to the others. She had told them their names, which were Carol and Jack. Nice, friendly names, she had always thought. Simple names, unlike so many she came across nowadays.
With a brief kiss goodnight for Valerie, one that was too distracted to actually mean anything, Robin set off into the night.
She wore the clothes of a Toro slave now. Her plan was to pretend to be on a mission if seen.
Her first step would be to simply get the lay of the land, see if she could find any groups of slaves or others, and ask around. One problem, she began to realize as she made her way to the rooftop and began hopping from one to the next, was that this place was much larger than she’d expected. The area with the dome and surrounding buildings itself was quite wide, and the fence actually extended well past there.
Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t visited many big cities. Sure, she had seen New York from a distance, but actually being inside the city was a totally different beast. The thought of it was making her head swim.
When she heard shouting below, she paused. She found a place on the edge of the roof where an old fan or something in a metal box allowed her to lean up against it without being seen in silhouette, if anyone was watching. It was unlikely anyone was, but one could never be too safe.
A group of men and women in old Army fatigues was training, each working on strike techniques as one man led them. It brought back too many bad thoughts of her own training, which had not been so long ago.
She preferred not to watch, so she pulled back and leaned her head against the cold metal, feeling the warm breeze from the lake.
Had it always been this warm so far north? She wasn’t even sure what time of year it was anymore. It wasn’t like they kept a calendar, though she had seen one once when she was young. Her father had kept it in his garage, where he would try to make old machinery he had found work again.
Her father had never given up. She loved that about him, and imagined it was more about the dream of another time for him than expecting to fix things.
Sadness to
ok over and she just wanted to collapse on the rooftop right there. Having been far away from them for so long she had almost lost hope, which had meant she was able to harden her heart.
But now that she was here and possibly so close to them it felt real, which also meant it felt newly hopeless all over again.
She hated that thought and stood up, walked away from the edge of the roof, and began pacing. Where would her parents be, if they were here? If they had any control over it, that is. They were smart, resourceful… Would they just be putting bullets together like all those others? A cog in the machine? No, she didn’t think so.
Her father would be the machine. He would show them what he was capable of so that he could find the best possible situation for his wife, even though they were slaves.
That was the kind of man he was.
But what that meant in a place like this, Robin had no idea. She decided that the best way to find out was to get off this roof and start asking questions. And honestly, she thought, doing that as a slave didn’t make sense.
Instead of accepting the hand she had been dealt, she moved to the side of the building and started working her way down using a combination of ledges and, when available, fire escapes. Those were broken in some places, completely missing in others.
When she was about twenty feet from the ground she jumped, rolling as she had been trained to do, and came up into the shadows of the building opposite. Here she waited for something to happen with the soldiers, who had moved on to sparring one-on-one now.
To her relief, a moment later one of the soldiers struck his partner too hard, and the partner’s response was to put the first in an arm-bar that wrenched his elbow.
After checking him out the trainer sent the first soldier to medical, and that was when Robin made her move.
She slid through the shadows as gracefully as the wind and entered the same building as the soldier, but through a different doorway.
He was hobbling up the stairs in the direction of two voices barely audible through the floor. If she was going to accost him, it would be smart to do so before he reached the top.
Darting forward at vampire speed, she leaped up the stairs, grabbed the man, and pulled him into a chokehold.
“Sorry to do this,” she whispered as she felt him stop struggling. He would not be unconscious for long. As she thought about it, this man might have treated her parents poorly. If nothing else, his being part of the city’s military helped to keep this system of slavery in place, and he was therefore as much to blame as any of them.
Well, maybe not equally. If she truly believed that, she would have taken his life by now. Instead, she just took his uniform. It wasn’t her size, naturally, but she was able to make it work.
Tucking in the shirt at the back and adjusting it so that the creases were under her arms, the bagginess was barely noticeable. It helped that the uniforms didn’t exactly fit the soldiers to begin with.
After stowing the man and tying him up so that it would at least take some time before he could raise an alarm, she returned to her original entrance. Once back out in the night she resumed a normal pace, trying to look as if she were on patrol.
As far as she knew looking around while she was on patrol would work for her, so she was able to take it all in for the first time.
Soon she found herself passing the waterfront, where she stopped to gaze at the ocean and watch the moon’s reflection dancing in the ripples caused by the wind.
That’s when she noticed the warehouse at the other end of the walkway. Its lights were on, and a couple soldiers were milling about in front. She had a feeling about it, so she walked over. To her relief, one of the soldiers was a woman. She wasn’t sure why that made her feel better, but it did.
“Hell of a night,” Robin offered, stepping up next to her.
The female soldier glanced over and frowned, but nodded.
Robin looked over her shoulder to see light spilling from the building’s windows, which were placed too high on the walls to allow anyone to look inside.
“You with Sergeant Krauss?” the woman asked.
Robin nodded as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Just making the rounds.”
“Sure,” the woman said. Her nametag read Espinoza, and she wore her dark hair in a ponytail beneath her hat. “That guy’s a real prick, eh?”
“I’m not about to badmouth him,” Robin replied, but nodded with a “you bet he is” smile. “I’ll let you get to it and go back to my rounds. Just, you know…we gotta stick together.”
“Sure as hell do.” The woman gave her a smile and turned away.
Robin continued past her, thinking this was too easy. A male soldier gave her a nod as she passed and kept moving toward the woman. She found the door to the warehouse and opened it, peeking inside.
Several men and one woman in slave clothes were working on what looked like the base of an air blimp with metal shielding on the bow and a series of openings for rifles or other weapons to fire through.
It was bizarre, to say the least. And fascinating. As she watched, a soldier entered and went to the stern, then climbed into a seat and turned on the airship’s leftover antigrav device.
The machine just barely lifted off the ground and two of the slaves took positions behind it. Now she understood. The device would float, with one or more shooters focusing on attack while the others aimed and provided close-combat support if needed.
Toro wasn’t just building an army, they were creating a new version of the ancient Roman turtle formation with the help of antigrav technology.
Still, Robin had to chuckle. Against the type of armies that cities had nowadays, they would kick ass. Even used to lay siege to a city the size of New York, maybe, this would be quite useful. But against a couple of vampires? She had her doubts.
As impressive as the attempt was, however, exploring it wasn’t her main goal in coming here. So instead of lingering, she meandered over to the third man in slave clothes.
She stood next to him, watching him fasten metal sheets together, and cleared her throat.
He glanced at her nervously and hung his head, sticking to his job.
“I need you to tell me something,” she started.
“Not to disturb, I know the drill,” the man replied. “My apologies if I offended.”
Robin frowned, not liking how subservient the soldiers had made these people. “I’m looking for a man and woman, slaves just like you.”
The man glanced up at her briefly, confusion heavy in his eyes, then returned to his work. “I’ve not heard of any escaped slaves.”
She shook her head. “You’ve got it wrong. Listen, just…two people, okay? Carol, and Jack. They… Well, they kind of look like me.”
He glanced at her again and frowned, then shook his head. “Don’t know any by that name, ma’am. My apologies.”
Frustration burned, but not because of what he said. It was the look in his eyes. If he did know anything, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her.
She leaned in, about to take a different tack, when a hand landed on her shoulder and caused her to start. When she turned, she found the soldier who had been manning the machine standing there with a frown.
“Corporal, formation outside. Now.”
She nodded. “I’ll be right there.”
“Now,” he repeated, folding his arms and waiting.
This time she just nodded and turned to follow him out. When this was over, she could come back and question the man again.
But the formation was no formation at all. Rather, it was a staff sergeant with another sergeant on either side of him, all three of them staring at her with their hands on their pistols. To her relief, the weapons were still holstered. That meant she wouldn’t have to kill them yet.
“Let’s start with you telling us who the fuck you think you are,” the staff sergeant commanded. “Then we can figure out what to do with you.”
She hesitated, wondering if maybe she was going to ha
ve to kill them after all. She glanced at their chests, glad to see there weren’t nametags. If there had been, that would mean she should have one too and lying wouldn’t work. Her mind reeled as she tried to come up with something plausible, but it turned out she didn’t have to.
“There you are,” another staff sergeant called, jogging over to her. “Ramirez, you were supposed to report to me.” He turned to the other sergeants and smiled. “Just a mix-up, new recruit and all. You get it.”
“Hardly,” the first staff sergeant said. He cocked his head at Robin, then licked his lips. “I see you poking around where you don’t belong, Ramirez, you and I are going to have a problem. The type of problem that ends with my boot so far up your ass you’ll have to buy me a new pair. Got it?”
Although she wanted to tear out his throat right then and there, she nodded and turned to follow the new arrival. He led her away from the warehouse and pulled her into the shadows.
“What’re you doing?” she asked him.
“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who asks the questions here,” he replied, glaring. “If shit-for-brains back there looks into my story, I’ll be floating down Shit Creek. So you tell me what you’re doing, and I’ll give you my answer.”
She simply folded her arms and glared.
“You look familiar.” He squinted, probably trying to see her better in the darkness. “Do I know you?”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t, no.”
“Fine. But here’s the deal. The rest of you are over on the other side of town. I thought you lot said you were waiting?”
“My…lot?”
He leaned in, hissing, “The other vampires.”
She pulled back, horrified at the thought that he had somehow guessed her secret.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “You think I can’t recognize you by now? Nobody has skin as pale and smooth as your kind. It’s just…unnatural in this world.”
“Well, bonus points to you. Maybe I’m just really good at staying in the shade.”
