Gaslit Revolution

by Jason Gilbert

  “Stay awake! I didn’t hit you that hard, you fuck” He slapped the man’s face. “Wake up!”

  Something clicked. Kane glanced down at the badge again. Dickins. Officer Dickins.

  Officer.

  Officer?

  Kane looked back up at the man.

  “Where’s your badge number?”

  The cop grinned.

  “Wouldn’t…you like to know?” He leaned closer to Kane, his body trembling from the effort. “Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed Nomini tuo da gloriam.”

  Kane heard Tabitha cry out, shout his name, saw the knife in the man’s hand out before he could stop it. The Templar plunged the blade into his own throat up to the hilt, sputtering and gagging on blood and steel, his body rigid. Kane dropped him, stepped back as the man died, his eyes glazed and staring up at the night sky.

  Kane rolled it all around in his head. Tried to make sense of it, file it, put it in categories and boxes in the warehouse of his mind so he could look at it all without the big picture being muddied.

  He was too distracted.

  Tabitha had transported Antonia to the nearby Hospital in Hidden Valley. It was run down, underfunded, and short-staffed. But the doctors worked hard, the higher-ups who ran the place choosing to live there in order to be available at all times in the event of an emergency. It had once been a notable hospital in New Chicago. But, like everything else in Hidden Valley, it fell to hard times as the Oligarchs bought their way into power. The doctors had limited resources to work with, but they managed.

  Kane paced the waiting room, working his jaw muscles, trying to play it over in his head. What if Antonia knew something? She had to know something. It wasn’t just the prostitution network that kept the information flowing. Word on the street spread quickly, and it always came across Antonia’s door. If the Templars thought she was a threat, it made sense that they would try to kill her. Sandra and the other girls would just be collateral damage. But it would be killing two birds with one stone: no witnesses, and the complete elimination of the information highway the prostitution network provided the Revolution.

  But it was done. There was no Revolution. No organized uprising. All of that had burned with Charleston. Regina Anderson had been calculating, organized, and strategic. She knew when to fight, what targets to hit. She’d had combat training. Chris was just rallying people together, making more targets for the Special Forces and the Templars. The kid was sloppy, and he was going to get himself and a lot of other people killed without some form of army behind him.

  Tabitha’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Kane? Sit down next to me. Please.”

  Kane nodded, sat down without a word. She rested her head on his shoulder, held his arm as she spoke. Her hair smelled like soot and fire.

  He didn’t care.

  “She’ll be okay,” Tabitha said.

  “Vision?” Kane asked, glancing around out of habit to make sure they were still the only ones in the waiting room.

  Tabitha shook her head.

  “Nope. Just know.”

  A tall young man walked into the room wearing a white lab coat. He was bald, wore horn-rimmed glasses not unlike Bette’s, and carried a clipboard in his arms. He looked at Kane and Tabitha and nodded.

  “Mr. Shepherd?”

  Kane tensed, stood and stepped in front of Tabitha. The doctor held up a hand.

  “Relax, Mr. Shepherd,” he said. “I’m a friend.”

  “I hear that a lot,” Kane said. “Usually ends up being the same person trying to do me in.”

  The doctor chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

  “Understandable, but I think momma would slap the teeth out of my head if I turned you over to the police.”

  Tabitha stood up next to Kane.

  “‘Momma?’”

  Kane looked the man up and down.

  “Little pale to be related to Antonia, aren’t you, doc?”

  The doctor shook his head.

  “Not blood related,” he said. “Got orphaned as a kid. Antonia took me in and raised me. Helped me get into med school. Name’s Dr. Baker. Eli Baker.” He sighed, his pleasant demeanor fading as he looked over the paperwork. “I wish the news was better, given who I’m treating today.”

  Kane crossed his arms in front of him.

  “We’re used to bad news. What is it?”

  “Well, there is some good news,” Dr. Baker said. “She’s stable, and we’ve got her breathing regularly now. It’s shallow still, and she’s not breathing as deeply as I’d like, but it’s a start. There’s air moving, and that makes me happy. She inhaled a considerable amount of smoke in the fire. She’s lucky to be alive. Few burns, nothing to worry about now that she’s here.”

  “Okay,” Kane said, waiting for the “but.”

  “She’s still unconscious,” Dr. Baker continued. “That’s what worries me. As I said before, she took in a lot of smoke. It’s why she’s making that wheezing sound when she breathes. Smoke inhalation of that magnitude can burn tissue in the lungs, and that combined with the toxins in the air can limit oxygen in the blood, which limits oxygen to the brain. I can’t claim to know when she might wake up. It could be any moment, it could be days, weeks, or she might never wake up.”

  Tabitha put her hand over her mouth, tears rolling down her dirty face in streaks. Kane breathed out, taking in the information. Antonia. They got Antonia.

  “Is there anything we can do?” he asked.

  Dr. Baker sighed, took his glasses off and shook his head.

  “There’s no way to open her chest and treat the tissue. That kind of surgery doesn’t exist. At that point you’re just looking at what killed your victim. I’ve seen people with smoke damage come back before, but I’ve also seen them not make it. It’s a waiting game. Even if she heals and wakes up, she’ll have problems with her breathing for the rest of her life. Lung tissue is sensitive, and scarring is a very real possibility.” Dr. Baker lowered his clipboard, approached Kane, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I wish the news was better, too. All we can do is wait and pray.”

  Kane nodded.

  “Thanks, doc. Good to meet you.”

  Dr. Baker dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

  “This came for you, by the way,” he said, holding the paper out for Kane. “Guy showed up, dropped it on the receptionist’s desk, and took off.”

  Kane took the paper. He had a feeling he knew what it was.

  Baker nodded and left the room.

  Tabitha looked up at Kane, wiping the tears away.

  “Poor Antonia,” she said. “Now what?”

  Kane looked at her.

  “I think someone wants to chat.”

  The air in the street was cold, bitter, the stench of Antonia’s burning house still hanging in the air as the volunteers worked to get the blaze down and out. Hidden Valley had a volunteer fire department, mostly comprised of yard workers. It wasn’t that they enjoyed it. In fact, most of them dreaded it. If a building in Hidden Valley caught fire, it was always someone that somebody knew. But the only “help” New Chicago was willing to send to Hidden Valley was in blue uniforms with guns, night sticks, and orders to keep things quiet.

  Kane and Tabitha waited at Daniel’s old place in the building across from Tabitha’s, and only a couple of blocks from where Antonia’s house once stood. The apartment was still a shitshow. Trash littered the floor, the telescope was still in place, and the couch looked like it had been salvaged from a dumpster.

  It was also the perfect place to meet up with certain newsie Kane wanted to knock the shit out of.

  “Think he’ll actually come?” Tabitha asked.

  Kane looked away from the window facing her building. The note had been from Chris. Simple. He wanted to talk.

  “He wanted to meet,” Kane said, shrugging. “I guess he wants to give me a good reason not to throw him out the window.”

  “He’s a Magician,
” Tabitha said, breathing out as she wrapped her arms around herself. “For the longest time, I thought we were the only ones. Now it seems like everyone’s a Magician. Gods, this is crazy.”

  Kane raised an eyebrow. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He smelled something different. Not just mildew, rotten food, and shit. Something else. He looked around.

  Keep it together, Shepherd, he thought. Play it off.

  He smiled at her, gave a small laugh.

  “Coming from you, that hurts.”

  She looked at him and smiled.

  “We’re alone.”

  “No.”

  “Just a quick one?”

  “Can’t.”

  Tabitha pouted, stamped her foot.

  “Why not?”

  Kane moved closer to the wall where Daniel had pinned up all the articles from the papers about the Mors Rebrum murders. He kept his eyes on Tabitha, his back to the wall. The scent grew stronger. Sweat. Body odor.

  “I don’t like an audience.”

  He moved quick, driving his elbow into the wall, causing Tabitha to yelp. The blow landed on something soft, not plaster and lathe. A grunt. The sound wind being knocked out of someone. Kane drove his elbow in again. Again. Again. The grunts came every time, the last blow causing the shape to pitch forward from the shadows, the wall seeming to meld into a human form. Kane grabbed it by the front, his hands wringing into a shirt. He yanked Chris from the wall and threw him across the room. Tabitha cried out, jumped out of the way as Chris crashed into the couch with enough force to collapse it. He tried to get up, but Kane was faster. He lifted the newsie up, slammed him back down on the broken couch, landed a blow on the kid’s jaw before he tossed him again, this time into the small table by the window where the telescope sat. The table splintered underneath Chris, the telescope knocked to the side. Kane went for him again, yanked him to his feet, spun and slammed him against the refrigerator in the kitchenette. Tabitha shouted at Kane, her voice panicked as she moved to him, put her hands on his arm, tried to pull him away.

  “Kane! Kane, stop it! You’re hurting him!”

  “Good,” Kane said, lifting Chris of his feet, pressing him hard into the fridge.

  Chris’s eyes widened as he sputtered.

  “Wait,” he said, holding his hands up. “Wait!”

  “Start talking,” Kane said. “Right now. Who the fuck are you, and why shouldn’t I break every bone in your fucking body?”

  “We want the same thing,” Chris said. “We both want to stop them. We messed up. Got sloppy.”

  “I’ll say,” Tabitha said, her tone angry. “You got a lot of people hurt and killed, and you got Antonia’s house burned down.”

  “Bullshit, we want the same thing,” Kane said. “I want the fighting to end, you were there to kill the President of the Northern Union on his own doorstep. Everyone who died there is on your hands!”

  Tabitha moved in closer.

  “So many lives,” she said, tears in her eyes. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Chris shook his head.

  “Like I said…we messed up.”

  “No good enough,” Tabitha said. She looked at Kane. “I changed my mind. Break his teeth.”

  Kane shrugged casually.

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I wanted to talk to you?!” Chris said quickly. “It’s not like I didn’t know you’d be pissed off. I’m taking a risk, here.”

  Kane looked at Tabitha. She looked from him to Chris and back again, nodded. Kane set the newsie down on his feet, still looming over him.

  “Okay. Talk.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You have to understand how deep this goes,” Chris said as he leaned against the refrigerator. “It’s bigger than you think.”

  Kane narrowed his eyes at the newsie.

  “We were hunted by the Special Forces all the way into the deep South and watched them wipe out an entire city including an organized, fully-able Revolution.”

  Chris nodded.

  “Okay, it’s as big as you think.” He looked at Tabitha, then back at Kane. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Who are you?” Kane said, stepping forward. “And what the hell were you thinking at that conference?”

  Chris sighed.

  “You mentioned the Revolution,” he began. “We wanted in on that. All of us. When we heard that they’d been wiped out down South, a bunch of us got together to try to start a new one. Organize. Try to find a different angle. It’s pretty safe to say that direct combat isn’t smart. At least not on a large scale. We’re outmanned and outgunned.”

  “No shit,” Kane said, glancing at Tabitha.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Guy’s a real genius,” she said.

  Chris kept his eyes on Kane.

  “You started this, Shepherd,” he said. “You went against them. Found out things you shouldn’t know. Ruffled feathers.”

  “How do you know what I found out?” Kane crossed his arms. “And how the hell do you figure I started this bullshit? I’ve been hearing talk about the Revolution in the streets for months.”

  Chris shrugged.

  “I don’t know what you know. But it has to be good for them to come after you like this. Blow up a shipyard.” He grinned at Kane. “As far as you starting the ball rolling: everyone knows about that stunt you pulled that night. Getting on the Revolution airship, blowing the Special Forces out of the sky on your way out. You became a hero that night.”

  Kane shook his head.

  “I’m no hero,” he said. “I was fighting for my life.” He motioned to Tabitha. “Her life. Now, answer the question before I find more furniture to use you on.”

  “I’m a Magician,” Chris said. “Guess you knew that. A good many of us are. But most of us are just people who are tired of the way things are.”

  “I thought Kane, Jones, and I were the only ones left,” Tabitha said. “They can kill you for using magic.”

  Chris nodded.

  “As of a month ago, they don’t even need proof. A few people have died, including people in Downtown. It’s the Salem Witch trials without the trial. Look at someone sideways, and they can accuse you and put you down without hesitation.”

  “What caused that?” Kane asked. “Why did they pass that?”

  Chris locked his stare on Kane, nodded his head at Tabitha.

  “You two. You got into a magic fight at a public event at City Hall. More witnesses than I can count, and a President who was terrified of magic. Thought it was power given to us by Satan, himself. He passed the legislation as soon as he was elected.” Chris snorted. “Well, more like advanced into the President position.”

  “I still don’t get that,” Kane said. “How does someone become President without a general election?”

  Chris shrugged.

  “Pay the right people, pass the right law. The former President went missing, and the incident at the shipyard when you blew out of here shook the Oligarchy so bad they declared the Northern Union onto a State of Emergency. Frostmeyer was elected internally to assume the Presidency in an emergency situation. That cemented their hold on the government. The wealthy now run the country completely. The government set up by George Washington and his buddies is history. No more Democracy.”

  “So your solution was to kill the President.” Kane laughed bitterly. “Brilliant.”

  “Either way it happened,” Chris said. “You did it, I didn’t, he’s still dead. Now, we sit back and watch them scramble.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Kane said. “I didn’t kill Frostmeyer for you. I was trying to kill Chesterfield. Frostmeyer was set up. He was going to die no matter what happened.”

  Chris looked unnerved for the first time since Kane had caught him snooping and used him as a bludgeon on the couch and table.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Gentry and Chesterfield played you like an accordion,” Kane
said, fighting to keep his anger down. “They set the whole thing up. They somehow knew what you were up to and set a plan in motion. Frostmeyer was gonna die whether you killed him or not.”

  Chris ran his fingers through his messy hair, stood up from his leaning spot at the fridge, and paced around.

  “Christ,” he mumbled. “Bill. I should’ve listened to Bill.”

  “Bill?” Kane said. “You mean Captain Bill?”

  “Yeah,” Chris said. “Just before he left to the Haven. He was transporting a bunch of Special Forces troops sent to look for you. He warned me about Chesterfield.”

  “Bill got arrested for trying to help us,” Kane said.

  “No,” Chris said. “He got arrested because he’s part of our Revolution. He was sent there by the Special Forces to help them find you. He was supposed to bring you back here, turn on them. His crew would take them out once you were aboard his ship.” Chris looked at Kane. “We broke him out a few days ago. He ran South.”

  “Good,” Tabitha said, sighing with relief. “He was nice!”

  “What can you tell me about the Templars?” Kane said.

  Chris shook his head. “Not much. Not anything more than what I’ve told you already.”

  Kane punched the palm of his hand and cursed under his breath. The Templar he’d tackled in Antonia’s yard had been wearing a police uniform, had even been wearing a badge. But there was no badge number. Every officer on the force had their own individual badge number. It was how they were identified.

  “Cybil,” Kane said.

  Chris looked at him.

  “Who?”

  “Cybil Lewis. She works at the department. She’s a friend.”

  Chris held his hand up. “I have a hard time believing anyone at the NCPD is a friend.”

  Kane smirked. “Things are different when you save someone’s life. If anyone knows what’s going on with the Templars, she does.”

  “What about the Gunman?” Tabitha said. “Who was he? And why did he do himself in?”

  “Evade capture,” Chris said. "They probably have a good story to tell on what’s going on. They’d rather die than give up whatever cause they’re fighting for. That, or there’s something worse than dying waiting on them if they report back after having spilled the beans.”