Codename: UnSub (The Last Survivors Book 2)

by Declan Finn

  The Burners made him angry. The damage they did to the teeth was bad enough, but they also destroyed any of the paper money that was being carried, any clothing, and any possibly useful items that their victim had on his person. Such a waste…

  That was when something squeaked, and he nearly leapt out of his skin as the sound drove him out of his deep thoughts. He looked up and realized it was just one of the rats. With a shrug, he returned to organizing his capture for the evening.

  He didn’t know how much time had passed when he felt the gun against the back of his head. The cold of the metal nearly made him scream, but he managed to bite the reflex back as he heard a round chambered in the gun. The last thing he wanted was to get his head blown off because he made a noise. The Burners had finally caught up to him…

  A moment afterward, he realized how much more serious than that the situation was. It wasn’t the Burners who had him. It was the Children of Thanatos. He began to feel a cold sweat on his skin as he heard two of them speaking to each other. What they were saying, he couldn’t be sure. He was too busy trying to keep from pissing into his pants. Still, they hadn’t killed him yet, and that might be a good sign. Maybe he could talk his way out of the situation…

  Before he could say a word, however, he heard the voice of the man holding the gun against the back of his head. “You are Terry?”

  Terry blinked. “What? What do you want with Terry?”

  A group of Thanatosians surrounded him as the gun was pulled away. The man holding it came around to stand in front of him. “The Angel-Servant called Anderson seeks a Scavenger named Terry. If you are this Terry, we will let you pass through the hands of our Saint for this evening so you might answer the Angel-Servant’s questions. Otherwise, you will be released to join Saint Jack immediately.”

  Terry, now shaking as well as sweating, nodded. It wasn’t like they’d left him with much of a choice. Die right now, or do what they wanted and perhaps just die later, if he didn’t give this so-called ’Angel-Servant’ (whatever the hell that was) what he wanted. “Okay. I’m Terry.”

  He had no chance to say anything else as the Thanatosian grabbed his arm and began dragging him off. Terry tried not to drop his prize for the evening, but he was unable to keep it from falling out of his hand. He tried to reach back for it, but the Thanatosian would not allow him to stop. A moment later, he whined at the Thanatosian. “I need that!”

  The Thanatosian looked over his shoulder at Terry, his eyes those of a convinced religious fanatic. “You need nothing right now, Terry, but to come with us and serve the will of the Angel-Servant Anderson of Saint Jack.”

  Something in his voice told Terry to not argue.

  ***

  The Children led him for quite a while, finally stopping at the edge of Chinatown. Terry avoided Chinatown when he could. He had heard there was a crazy man living there. Kevyne Andersunn or something like that…he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the Children were bringing him toward the crazy man. There were stories that made him think the crazy man would want his teeth.

  He had heard of the crazy man eating Burners and Scavengers for lunch. That he gargled W.K.D.-60 and snorted pixxy dust with other people’s noses… Terry was really scared of him, but he wasn’t going to make the Children angry. He didn’t want to have his teeth taken, either his father’s or the ones in his mouth.

  The Child who seemed to be in charge halted at a street corner, reaching over to take Terry by the sleeve. “The Angel-Servant’s residence is nearby. Only I may accompany you there.” The other Children started protesting immediately. They, apparently, wanted to see the crazy man, too.

  The Child ignored them, and dragged him off down the street. The few Chinese on the streets ignored them as if this were something usual. Terry saw them glancing at him when they heard his teeth clacking, and he clutched them a little tighter in his hands. Nobody was going to get his teeth!

  They stopped in front of an alleyway. A moment later, a tall, brown-haired man in a brown jacket stepped out. Terry thought he might be able to sell the jacket if he got it, and the man had really nice teeth…not even a filling…

  The tall man looked at Terry. “Who’s Gollum?”

  Gollum…? Terry was slapped out of his reverie a moment later as the Child smacked him across the back of the head. “Greetings, Angel-Servant. This is the one you sought…the one named Terry.” He paused a moment. “We are with the Angel-Servant now, Terry. You will do as he asks, and if he says, we will not send you to join Saint Jack.”

  Terry nodded, frightened nearly past speech, and swallowed hard. He squeezed his father’s teeth again, and made himself look up at the…Angel-Servant?

  The Angel-Servant looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. “Terry, you took some teeth from Chinatown last night, didn’t you?”

  Terry blinked. “I did?”

  “Did you enter Chinatown last night?” he was slowly asked.

  “Yes…”

  “You were in an alley?”

  “Oh, yeah, that…”

  “You did take teeth from that alley, didn’t you?”

  Uh-oh…were those his teeth? "Do you want them back?”

  The Angel-Servant let out a breath of air…he sighed? “…Terry, did you take them?”

  “Yes…”

  “Okay, you took them. Did you see how the last owner of them died?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know anything about it?”

  Blink. “Um…yes?”

  “Is that a yes you know something, or a yes that you know I want you to say yes?”

  “Um…no?”

  Another sigh. “Terry, did you see, hear, or smell anything about the killer?”

  Oh, is that it? “NOOOO! NOOO! AAAAHHHHHHH!” The Angel-Servant blinked at him and he stopped screaming. Terry looked at him and said, “You didn’t want that?”

  The Angel-Servant stopped a moment, then said, “Is that what you heard happen?”

  “Yes. Lots of noise. Lots of bad things happening. Then it stopped, and I took the teeth. It was messy. Really messy.”

  The Angel-Servant rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m done. Unless you saw anything else, Terry?” He quickly added, “Or heard, or smelled, or anything else like that.”

  Terry swallowed. Does this mean I can keep the teeth? “Um…no…? Just a shadow.”

  “A what?”

  “Big black demon. Shadow.” He looked at the Child, with his black hood and cloak. “Like him.”

  “Really?" Was that tone a good sign? "And how tall was that shadow? My height?”

  “Yeah…kinda.”

  “Great, a six-foot man in black…I’m looking for a Balrog. Thank you, that will be all.”

  Terry would have asked what a Ball had to do with it, but if he was done, he wasn’t going to do anything that made him stay any longer. The Child grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and the sharp, shiny edge of a blade appeared from the Child’s cloak. Terry squeaked, and the knife paused when the Angel-Servant barked, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  The Child looked at the Servant. “He desecrates bodies in Chinatown. St. Jack—”

  Angel-Servant Anderson shook his head. “The man was kinda already mutilated halfway to hell. Who’s going to miss some teeth? Certainly not the dead guy. Has he done anything else? Killed anyone else in particular?”

  “No, but—”

  “No buts. Who’s the Angel-Servant here?”

  “You are.”

  “That’s right. Then, let…him…go…now.”

  The Child released Terry, and Kevin jerked his head back the way Terry came.

  Terry took the hint and ran.

  ***

  Kevin sat back against the wall of the building and rubbed his head. He felt like his skull was about to explode.

  One of the Children walked up to him very slowly and cautiously. “Is there something wrong, Angel-Servant?”

  Kevin sighed and looked up. “Do y
ou guys have names?”

  The Child pulled back her cloak’s hood. She was blonde and green eyed, and maybe around sixteen. “I am Sister Morta.”

  He let out an involuntary laugh. “Of course you are. Well, Morta, tell me, why do I do this crap? Am I really that bored? Don’t I have anything better to do? I mean, heck, Kyle was going to off this guy anyway, so who cares? Why do I even care?”

  Morta’s face scrunched up like she smelled something strange. “Because someone entered your domain and infringed on your territory, committing a crime so horrid and horrific that the Heavens cry out for justice. This creature is almost assuredly going to commit a similar offense to God and nature again.”

  Kevin blinked. “Wow. I didn’t think you folks would have considered it that deeply.”

  Morta blinked. “What else would we think about? After all, death is our part in life. And we have experience with creatures like this who have tried to join us. One such person was expelled from our ranks within the past year or so.”

  Kevin perked up. “What? Did he have a name?”

  “Brother Pale Horse.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes, and felt his headache flare up again. “Why didn’t I think of that? What did he look like?”

  “He was young. Tall, fair-skinned, with red-hair.”

  He laughed. “At least he won’t be hard to miss.”

  “I don’t know about that. He was adept at the art of death and concealment.”

  Kevin winced. “Tall, pale and lethal. Just what I needed. Thank you, Morta.”

  She grinned like a little kid who had just been given a cookie.

  Chapter 14: Sensational

  “Look, I’m telling you, Sir, those lunatics who go around killing people and say they’re doing them a favor by doing it are in the area!” The voice was more than a little frightened, and it was clear that whoever it was, he was not used to being afraid of anything. The tone of his voice made it clear that he was more used to being the one frightening someone else.

  “Shaddap, you stupid pussy. You know damn well we don’t have a thing to be scared of. Those morons won’t come anywhere near us. If they do, we’ll make sure they never…” the second voice paused, a chuckle sounding a moment later “…Ever get the chance to do their ‘job’ again, and that they stay alive as long as possible. They won’t like that. Trust me. I’ve dealt with those stupid pricks before.”

  The men having the conversation appeared to be in their late teens - perhaps their early twenties. Both were armed with pistols, and the one who had been laughing had a very strange looking knife sheathed on his belt. The first had short blonde hair and blue eyes, and his associate, who had found the entire situation so funny, had long white hair and white, apparently iris-less eyes, with his hair tied back in to a ponytail. An albino.

  He turned, looking in the direction that the frightened blonde had come running from in. “Besides that. They tend to stay away from me. They seem to be afraid that if they get too close, whatever made me look like this might fuck them up, too.” He chuckled again. “Those idiots don’t seem to understand that I looked almost exactly like this when I was born. I don’t think any of them have ever seen an albino before.”

  “A what?” The other man’s tone was confused.

  “An albino, you moron.” He smacked the other man across the temple. “It means that my skin, my hair and my eyes have no real pigment to them. No real color. Pigment is a kind of color.” He spoke as if he was dealing with a child, and it was obvious by his reactions to the other man’s behavior that as far as he was concerned, the man was one.

  “I will admit, though, looking like this does have its advantages. You’d be amazed how easy it is to scare people when they think you have no eyes except for a pair of black spots. Spots that are in the middle of where your eyes are supposed to be.”

  “You mean that’s real? You’re not wearing contact lenses?” The man’s voice was incredulous.

  The albino smacked him again, this time across the mouth. “Yes, you stupid fuck. It’s real. It was my present for waiting too long to leave Los Angeles. Now shut up and get moving, Frank. We have a meeting to get to.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Without another word, the man turned, following the albino down the other end of the alley and back on to the street. Occasionally, as they walked, another person would, every few minutes, do a double take as the albino passed them. A few shivered as his eyes touched theirs. They made no effort to hide their discomfort as he passed them, and they made their way out of the area he was in as quickly as they could, no matter how obvious they were being about it.

  The albino’s eyes held nothing but contempt for them. “Frank?”

  “Yes, Master Aleksandyr?” The blonde answered cautiously, clearly trying to avoid getting hit again. He might be stupid, but it was a lack of education that made him that way—nothing else. He was not going to risk angering the man it was now clear was his boss.

  “What a bunch of pigs. Remind me why I haven’t drawn my gun and shot them yet, Frank?” His voice was full of amusement as the people who were in range to hear him tried to subtly move to the other side of the street.

  “Because they aren’t worth the waste of bullets it would take is what you told me yesterday, Master sir.” Frank seemed less nervous, now. Aleksandyr’s attention had turned someplace other than on him, and that meant that Frank would not get hit again. Or at least Aleksandyr wouldn’t hit Frank for right now.

  They continued their way down the street, everyone trying to keep their distance from Alek without being too obvious about it. They tried to appear as casual as they could, continuing their cell-phone conversations or reading their newspapers or listening to their music players - whatever it was they could do to pretend he wasn’t there.

  It was quite obvious just how much he was enjoying himself by the time they stopped walking. Frank couldn’t understand what his Master found so funny about those people, but then again, he never really understood what the Master found so funny about him, either.

  The Master kept telling Frank he needed to ‘Go back to high school’. Frank didn’t understand what that meant. There weren’t any schools anymore, high or low or any other way! Yet for some reason the Master kept saying it, and Frank just nodded, not wanting to get into trouble. With the Master, he had discovered, keeping his mouth closed was usually the safest thing to do, unless the Master spoke to him first.

  When they reached the usual meeting place, the Master had opened the gate and walked in to the park, taking a seat on a bench and relaxing, clearly waiting for someone. Frank was sure it was the rest of the gang. Why else would he come to a park? There was nothing for the Master to do in a park! He didn’t like the swings or anything…

  Frank’s attention was jolted out of his thoughts as the Master tapped on his arm. “Frank. The others are coming. It’s time to get started. Get to your usual place. I want everyone watched. If anyone tries to take out a gun, I want you to shoot him or her immediately. Understand?” Again the explanation made as if to a child.

  Frank nodded. “Yes, Master, I understand.”

  He moved to where he was supposed to stand and drew his gun, standing the way that the Master had taught him he was supposed to stand. He really didn’t want to have to shoot anyone tonight. The Master didn’t like him using too many bullets, but that was what the Master had told him to do if anyone else tried to take a gun out. The Master had said to shoot them.

  Aleksandyr watched as Frank moved away to his place, and smiled. Frank was not the brightest, but he was certainly loyal. In a place like San Francisco, loyalty was very rare, and loyalty that would kill for you was even rarer. So it was that despite Frank’s lack of an adult education (notwithstanding the fact that he was more than eighteen—Frank couldn’t count past twenty), Alek was tolerant. Frank made a very good bodyguard, and if it became necessary in the future, he would make a very good sacrificial lamb to save Alek’s life.

  Alek settled as his men
began to gather around, seating themselves in the grass. A few moved to sit near the bench, but most stayed out of range. Frank made them a little uncomfortable, and Alek scared them. It was one of the reason he led them - he was more intelligent than any of them, and so they were absolutely terrified of him.

  He stood as the last of them sat, letting his arms hang loose, the gaze in his eyes confident, his mouth curved in to a welcoming smile. “Good afternoon, boys. I know we don’t ordinarily meet this early in the day, but I have something special planned for you today... Something I think you’re going to find is a lot of fun.” He put a particular emphasis on ‘lot’ and ‘fun’. He was certain this was going to work—they believed everything he had said in the past, so they would certainly believe him now, when it came to this.

  “I know you don’t like the Children of Thanatos. Hell, I know you don’t like anyone in San Francisco!” He chuckled, giving his men a moment to join in his laughter. They knew better than not to do so. He cleared his throat. “But tonight we aren’t going to bother with that bunch of morons. I have something a lot more fun in mind.”

  He turned, glancing around at all of them, the pupils of his eyes opening and closing as if at his will. “A few of our scouts found a supply of gasoline a few nights ago. I know most of you learned enough in school to know what the word ‘flammable’ means.” He spoke that word slowly, again as if to a group of schoolchildren. “Gasoline, my boys, is flammable. Anything gasoline touches, if it gets touched by a flame, will burn.”

  A few of the men cheered, the rest nodding slowly. They understood what he was implying. Screw the Thanatosians! They were going to get to go burn somebody! To make someone into a fire!

  Alek grinned at them openly, now. “I have no one particular in mind for who we are going to burn first. I was going to say that perhaps we should start with one of the street druggies, but most of them are probably stoned out of their heads right about now. They wouldn’t scream! They wouldn’t feel anything, and that wouldn’t be any fun for us, would it?”