Codename: UnSub (The Last Survivors Book 2)

by Declan Finn

  A few voices answered “No,” and the rest shook their heads. It would certainly not be fun. What was the point of burning someone alive if they didn’t scream when you did it?

  “Very well. The first time we do this, we’re all going to do it together. I want to make sure you understand how to do this properly before I let you go out and do it completely on your own.” Not a single one of them said a word. Every one of them nodded, including Frank, who was smiling now. His Master was… how had the Master put it…. ‘On a roll’!

  Alek took a small squeeze bottle out from under the bench. “This is a small sample of what I found. I have a box of matches with me. When I’m sure you know what you’re doing, I’ll give you each some of both. For now, I’m the one who’s going to be doing it, though. You just get to watch and cheer.”

  Every one of the men present began to cheer at his words, including Frank, who nearly dropped his gun before he realized what he was doing, and stopped, going back to stand the way the Master said was the right way before the Master saw him.

  Aleksandyr turned. “Come on. We have something else to do.” He started back toward the gate, being followed closely by Frank, who still had his gun drawn, and a little further back, the rest of the gang, who had not yet ceased cheering. A glare from Alek quickly silenced them. “If you keep making noise, they’ll know we’re coming! Be quiet!”

  As he led them out of the park, he smiled to himself, chuckling under his breath. This was going to be a very fun night. Someone was going to get roasted, and they wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening. Not anymore. Alek had been looking forward to getting an opportunity like this for a long time. He had always wanted to try burning someone alive, but he had never been given the chance to do it. Not until tonight. Not until he’d found the gasoline.

  Alek walked tall, once again watching as the street cleared before him. There were not many people on the street regardless, and most of them were not really worth paying attention to. The one that caught his eye was a man dragging a dead body along. He was talking to the body as he walked.

  “Come on, Tom! Wake up already! I know you must have really enjoyed yourself, but come on already! I mean, first you won’t answer me at all, then that little Scavenger with the funny teeth konks me over the head and steals your fillings and your cross, and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop ’im! It’s been more than twelve hours, Tom!” The man snorted, looking down at the body in his arms.

  “It doesn’t take anyone that long to come down off of a Wicked High! The longest I’ve ever been up is an hour! Either there was something really special about that stuff, or you’re just reacting in a really, really weird way, ‘cause your body is really, really stiff!" The voice stopped a moment, piquing Alek’s curiosity, and when it spoke again, it almost sounded like a child.

  "Pulling you home like this isn’t something you should be making me do! It’s not fair! I got you to try the stuff, and you pay me back by screwing with me after? Games are normally a lot of fun, Tom, but a Wicked High can’t last as long as you seem to be pretending, so stop pretending, will ya?”

  Alek smirked. An addict. A very stupid addict… The so-named addict didn’t realize that the body he was pulling down the street was a corpse. Apparently he’d given the man some W.K.D.-60, and it had been a fatal dose.

  The druggie had just assumed it was a long high, or a game of some sort. Alek didn’t know what he found funnier…the fact that the man was dragging along a dead body, or that the fool didn’t realize you could not pull someone’s fillings out while they were still alive, high or not, without causing them a lot of pain. The man was a walking joke! Alek crossed the street, stopping in front of him.

  “Having some trouble, buddy?” He was having a hard time keeping the laughter out of his voice. How pathetic the addict looked wasn’t making it any easier for him, but he managed to keep sounding friendly.

  “Yeah…” The stoner answered him slowly, clearly not sure what to say. “I got my brother to try some ‘Sixty, and he reacted in a really weird way. He hasn’t said a word for a really long while, and he let some guy knock my lights out and steal his fillings!”

  Mark hiccuped, blinking at Aleksandyr. “It’s really frustrating. I mean, I went through all the trouble of getting him to try it, and now he won’t talk to me!” He glared at the body again, very clearly upset by its lack of response.

  Mark opened his mouth to speak again, but he didn’t get a chance to say another word. Alek’s fist buried itself in his gut, knocking the wind out of him. A moment later, Alek’s voice sounded, his amusement plain. “So you think he’s just not talking to you? Taking a nap? He’s dead, you stupid druggie! As stiff as a board!”

  Mark, gasping, glanced up at Alek. “No! He’s just resting!”

  Alek smirked. “You really are a moron, you know that?” He turned to look at his men. “Alright. Have some fun with this guy. Beat him senseless, play with him however else you like, but do not do anything to the body! Let this moron drag his brother around San Francisco for a while. Maybe he’ll get the clue when brother dear starts decomposing.” He chuckled once again, the chuckle finally becoming a cruel laugh. “That, or maybe he’ll just tell him he needs to take a shower when the stench gets too bad!”

  Alek stepped back then, moving to stand next to Frank as his men beat Mark unconscious. There was nothing worth taking off of the man or the corpse, though. Whoever the guy had been talking about—whomever it was who had taken the fillings out of the corpse—had stripped the body and the druggie completely.

  A few minutes later, after Mark had been left a bloody mess on the sidewalk, the gang moved away, still following Alek closely. They continued on down the street, again searching for an appropriate target. They searched for someone who would be able to feel what was happening to them—someone who would be able to understand what was going on. They searched for someone who would suffer when they were burned.

  It was, surprisingly enough, Frank who finally found their target. Quietly, as he watched the man walking down the sidewalk toward them, he moved up to Alek. “Master…” He tapped Alek on the shoulder. “Master, sir, I see someone who would feel it, I think.”

  Aleksandyr resisted the urge to hit Frank. He had seen the man himself a few moments earlier—still, it would not do to attack Frank for doing his job. Sometimes giving a treat to a dog was just as effective as hitting it, if not more so. “Very good, Frank. Step back and tell the others to get ready. This man should make a perfect target. I am pleased with you.”

  Frank stepped backward toward the other gang members, clearly very, very happy with Alek’s reaction to his actions. He was very proud of himself, and he projected it as he gave the others their instructions. He told them their target was just ahead, and that his Master…their Master…was ready for them to position themselves to stop the man from getting away.

  Whoever he was, he was obviously a Corporate employee…a small-time paper pusher. He was dressed in a suit and carrying a suitcase, along with a small bouquet of flowers. A small ribbon that read “Happy Anniversary” hung from them, the pink of the ribbon contrasting perfectly with the white of the flowers. He looked excited.

  Alek smiled as he stepped forward, stopping in front of the man. “Excuse me, Sir, but could my friends and I talk to you for a second? We have something we want to show you.” The man blanched as he looked in to Alek’s eyes, glancing back and forth between the albino with his bottle and the other men who had encircled him. He swallowed hard, looking around for an escape route. All he saw were Alek’s men around him.

  His voice cracked as he spoke. “Listen, I’m really in a rush. It’s my anniversary, and my wife thinks I forgot. I’m trying to surprise her. You can have the suitcase, my clothes, my wallet…” he shrugged. “…You can have whatever you want of what I have, except the flowers. Please let me go. I don’t want her to think I don’t love her anymore.”

  Aleksandyr smiled at the man disarmingly. “S
ir, you are about to become a part of a beautiful experiment. We want to see just how long a man can live…” Alek paused a moment for dramatic effect. “…After he’s been set on fire. I promise you that as much as it might bother you, we’ll be very happy no matter what the results turn out to be.” His voice was level. "I promise the sacrifice you make for us tonight will be recognized, when our study is complete."

  The man swallowed again, looking around once more for an escape route. “Come on…are you crazy? If you do this, then you’re going to have every one of my associates straight up your ass! You’re going to be getting hunted by every Security officer in the city! Nobody gets to kill one of us without a reason!”

  Alek grinned at him now, quite openly. His voice was silky-smooth with confidence as he spoke. “But sir…I do have a reason. A very good reason! I need to know the results of this test if we’re going to get proper results from the experiment as a whole! When we perform the test again, I’ll need to compare the times to tonight’s control time to determine the accuracy of the results!”

  Without another word, he began spraying gas on the man. The man turned, finally trying to run away—he was trying to get between some of Alek’s associates. He was, however, unable to get far before four of them grabbed him by the legs and dragged him back, aiming their guns at his head. The way they were holding their guns made certain it was clear that if he moved, he was a dead man.

  Aleksandyr finished covering him with gas, and lit the match. “Burn, baby, Burn.” Without another word, he tossed a match, and settled back to watch the fun. The flowers were on the ground - they had fallen when the man had gone ablaze. Alek reached down, picking up the bouquet and straightening it. He would have Frank deliver them to the man’s wife… He didn’t want to ruin their anniversary, after all….

  Chapter 15: Threats

  Shen Lo was waiting for Kevin Anderson when he arrived back at his apartment building. Kevin smiled as he approached. Shen Lo, a member of the San Francisco community that he was …friends with? Yes, “friends” was as close as a description for their relationship as anything else. Shen was a Lieutenant in the Tongs; before the April Fools War, it was somewhere between the local mob and the local feudal lords. Now, they were mostly feudal lords. The Tongs grew out of legal businesses, once upon a time, and understood how businesses and communities worked; from there, they became criminals. Now that the world had gone to hell, they had gone back to their roots as people who led the communities.

  Shen Lo was a fixer—someone who was part intelligence gathering and part enforcer—and was also Kevin’s main contact with the Tongs. The old men who ran the Tongs saw Shen as the man holding the leash of the Anderson Attack Dog, but Kevin accepted Shen’s friendship at face value.

  Shen wasn’t all that visually impressive. He was about average height with an athletic build covered up by heavy jackets. His only standout feature were his eyes—one was black, the other brown.

  Shen waited on the street, standing beneath the fire escape leaving to Kevin’s apartment. Though Heaven help the first person who tried to use it for its original purpose. Kevin had booby-trapped the stairs so thoroughly, it would be safer to brave the flames of any fire that started in the building.

  I really hope we never have a fire here, Kevin thought. He waved. “Hey, Shen, what can I do for you?”

  Shen smiled, the smile reaching his brown eye, but not his black one. “You can tell me what is going on with the body in the alleyway.”

  Kevin didn’t even consider asking Shen how he knew, he just assumed that half the people at the initial crime scene had been Shen’s people, and the Tongs had volunteered the others. “The investigation is coming along slowly. Most of the time, I’ve been eliminating suspects.” He stopped a few feet away from Shen.

  “Have you considered that this may be a strike against you? Or against Chinatown?”

  Kevin blinked at that. “What makes you ask?”

  “Upon your arrival, you pissed off a great many people. Several mercenaries, the Forsaken, the Brokers, and anyone who ever had plans on Chinatown. If one wanted to show that you were a paper tiger, can you think of a better way to show it, committing such an atrocity in the heart of town?”

  “Yes, I can,” Kevin answered. “Outside my apartment. Or even down the street. Somewhere I wouldn’t need an NSA intercept to hear the screams. I haven’t heard even a whisper of this reflecting on me. Have you?”

  Shen said nothing. Kevin interpreted that plainly enough—the old men that he worked for saw it as a possibility, and started to consider it one.

  “It is the second body in less than a year,” Shen told him at last.

  “Oh come on! The other one was Kyle jerking around. He wanted to get a close look at me, to see if I was an old friend of his from the Assassins. That guy wasn’t even from around here, which is the only reason why Kyle used his body as a message.” Kevin took a step closer to Shen. “Your turn. What can you tell me about the victim? Who else might have wanted him dead?”

  “He was a… I can think of no one who—”

  “Then how did this guy end up on Kyle’s little list?”

  Shen blinked. “That…I did not know. If the Assassin was slated to kill him, I have no idea how many others he must have angered. Mei had always been such a simple, straightforward businessman.”

  “Who took martial arts as a hobby until he became a black belt? That’s a full time job.”

  Shen waved it off. “He grew up with it.”

  “But that’s my point,” Kevin said. “Even as a prominent member of the community, he was too dangerous as a soft target.”

  “But he was both an accomplished man and a dangerous one. It would be enough to impress outsiders with both his prestige and his perceived invulnerability.”

  Kevin sighed. “Listen, Shen, we can go round and round all night trying to figure something out about this from induction alone, but not with the information we have. There are only so many pieces of information to milk dry. All we know is that the killer has a skill set that rivals mine, and probably Kyle’s. We know the Forsaken hate my guts, they know who I am, and everyone knows where I live—maybe it’s them. The Brokers don’t have cause to like me, but I don’t think I cost them a heck of a lot of money when I drove them and their mercs out of Chinatown. Kyle was hired to kill him, so yes, others could be out there with a grudge, but Kyle hasn’t exactly confessed to me why Hwang was marked for death. There are too many groups out here, with too many motives and agendas kicking around. The only reason that we know the Burners didn’t do it is because the corpse wasn’t set on fire, but if they didn’t want suspicion to fall on them, then they would have avoided fire altogether.

  “In short, Shen, the key lays in finding all of the people who have the skill sets to have killed Hwang in the first place. You find them and we have our real suspect list. If you want, I’ll be happy to personally fill in the old men of the Tongs on my progress.”

  Shen nodded, and got out of Kevin’s way. As Kevin passed him, he whispered, “Kevin, you’re going to want to solve this murder. If my superiors start to look at you too closely, and they start to consider your protection less valuable than before, it may lead to unpleasant consequences.”

  He stopped, turned, and looked at Shen for a long moment. There were multiple cultural implications involved, and there were probably dozens of factors that Kevin could throw together that the old men would base their decision on. However, after dealing with a Scavenger with a tooth fetish, waking up to a 3 AM body, and enjoying a walk through the building of men he’d been killing only last year, Kevin’s patience was at an end. “If they really want you to make threats, make sure they aren’t idle. If I leave Chinatown, I take the Children with me. Then I use them to buy entry to any one of a dozen neighborhoods in town. Maybe I even take them and move into the Embarcadero or the Corporate Zones—even they would want an assurance that they’d be safe from the Children killing anyone in their areas of
influence. Now if you’ll excuse me, Shen, I need to kill somebody.”

  ***

  Kevin Anderson looked over the streets of San Francisco through his sniper rifle, zeroing in on his target. It was another Burner. These guys were starting to turn into cockroaches—kill one, there are a few hundred left somewhere else.

  He pulled back a little, and saw that this one wasn’t alone. Quelle surprize. He waited a second for one to lean into the victim, putting his skull right between his partner’s head and his rifle. Kevin fired, and the bullet went right through one ear and out the other, taking out the other Burner at the same time.

  Gotcha, Kevin thought as he slid the bolt over, racking another bullet in the chamber.

  He looked around for a little more, just to make sure there weren’t any other Burners in the street. Sometimes, he would shoot those in plain sight, and the ones in hiding would wait for a minute or two before they ran, hoping that his gaze had moved off. They were usually wrong.

  As he waited, he considered the dead body in the alley earlier that morning. Or should it have been late last night? Either way, it was not an experience he wanted to repeat. Ever. It was bad enough that he had such a murder committed in his little fiefdom, but having someone basically tortured to death out on the street that was a whole new level of awful. (evil?)

  Unfortunately, Kevin knew better. That wasn’t the sort of thing that one did on a whim. Someone had planned the crime, and someone had enjoyed the crime, taking his time, enjoying each and every crunch of bone. Not only that, but there was the nature of the killing—very public, very open, and very daring. Not only did Kevin roam the streets, but also the Children of Thanatos, who were not to be trifled with, even on their bad days, and on top of all of that, there was yet still Chinatown itself—the Tongs were the power here, and messing with them was never conducive to a long and happy lifespan.