Bitter Waters

by Wen Spencer

  Ukiah found the various light switches and returned the boat back to darkness except the one over Max.

  Up on the bridge, Sam asked, “What kind of engines?” as she switched them on.

  “Twin inboards,” Bradley said over the twin purr. “I don’t know the exact specs. They’re listed. And you’ve got nearly three hundred gallons of fuel; it’s part of the purchase price.”

  Ukiah caught Bradley before he could climb up beside Sam. “Thanks. We’ve got to go. Help me cast off.”

  Minutes later, they left the bemused Bradley on the dock as Sam expertly backed out of the boat slip and into the river’s current. Clouds thick with the promise of rain blanketed the night sky, cutting off the moonlight and star shine. With nearly a month of drought, the wind brought the smell of dust and dead leaves as it whipped down off the hills. The river flowed an ink black streaked with the elongated shimmer of shore lights.

  Once clear of the docks, Ukiah scrambled up beside Sam. “They’re still downriver. The river widens here as it goes around the bend. There are two islands: Sycamore and Nine-mile.”

  “Are the channels marked?” Sam asked nervously.

  “Yes; there’s still heavy barge traffic up here, so everything is well marked.”

  Max finished sorting through the gear, and came up to the bridge to hand Sam a pair of night-vision binoculars and laid a loaded shotgun along the windshield. “Kill the running lights.”

  They slipped down the river, running silent and dark. Sam guided the boat around the bend, navigating via the colored channel markers. The two low, heavily treed islands bracketed the channel, acting as a dark screen on the shore lights. Moving without lights, it was like gliding into a cave.

  “Where did they go?” Sam whispered. She scanned the river in front of them with the night-vision binoculars. “Do you see anything?”

  “No.” Ukiah pointed in Kittanning’s direction. “But they’ve just entered the cove between Sycamore Island and the Blawnox shoreline.”

  Max pointed out dots of light bobbing on the island like fireflies. “Someone’s already on the island.”

  “Parity said they had more than one boat.” Ukiah’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness, his vision switching to the sharp grays he associated with night. “I’m going across; if they’ve got the machine set up already, it needs to be shut down quickly.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Max said.

  Ukiah looked at him sharply. “What? No! I’m the nearly indestructible one.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, you’re the one getting the shit beat out of you all the time,” Max said. “You’re not being careful enough, kid. I’m going in as your backup.”

  “I don’t suppose I can come too?” Sam asked.

  “No,” Max and Ukiah snapped in unison.

  “I thought so.”

  “Get us in close,” Max said, “and then be ready to get us off fast.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. She eased the boat around as Max and Ukiah geared up in vests, radio headsets, and guns. Then she pulled in as close as she dared without running the Endeavor aground.

  “We’re going to run on radio silence.” Max duct-taped the laptop over the top of twin drink holders next to the steering wheel. “Unless something happens. If you hear us yelling”—Max tapped his headset—“come get us.” He showed her the tracer marks on the tracking system. “This is Ukiah. This is me.”

  “I’ll be waiting. Be careful.”

  The water was bitter cold with the early fall. It pulled like thousands of little hands on their legs as they waded through the hip-deep water, holding their guns above their chests. The riverbed was rocky and uneven as they worked their way to the low grassy bank. The wind thrashed the tops of the trees, and far downriver, a flicker of lightning heralded the oncoming storm.

  They made their way through tall, parched grass, dying of drought at the center of a river. Ukiah pushed forward, into point position, and scanned carefully for traps. Crude spear traps were cunningly hidden in the grass except for the smell of sharpened wood and fresh-turned earth. He made sure Max saw them and moved on.

  The island was over a quarter mile long, but only a few hundred feet wide. The Temple moved with stealth from two speedboats moored in the cove to the island’s highest point. The weave of their flashlights, while minimal, was comforting; they weren’t using night goggles. Kittanning was still in the crate on the bow of the nearest speedboat. The two babies and Du-ae, however, had already been moved ashore.

  There had been houses on the island at some time in the past. Considering how low the island lay on the river, it seemed likely that a flood leveled the buildings. Footings and cement steps traced the outlines of the vanished houses. The cultist had Du-ae set up in one of these level areas beside the great rectangular pit of an ancient Olympic-sized swimming pool. Carefully shielded camp lights dimly lit the area so no one would trip over Du-ae or fall into the nearly empty pool.

  The cultists had Du-ae covered with white silk. Two infant carriers sat at the foot of the Ae, the babies slept unbuckled. Seeing them there, and knowing that Core planned to sacrifice them, made Ukiah’s blood run cold.

  Ukiah counted ten cultists in all; Core, Hash, Socket, Io, and Dongle being the only ones he could name. Three men and two women made up the balance. He caught Max’s eyes, and signaled his count. Max winced and indicated that he had only spotted eight. Ukiah pointed out two cultists standing guard, tucked between trees and standing still. Max nodded after a moment; he saw them now.

  Hash and Io carried a generator up from the second speedboat and set it down beside Du-ae. Evidence of earlier trips, a hundred-gallon fuel tank was already in place, reeking of gasoline; apparently only half full, the cultists had ten five-gallon cans that they were carefully filling the large tank with. As Hash connected the fuel to the generator, Core and Io uncoiled power cables to link the generator to Du-ae.

  Lightning flickered on the distant horizon, and the cultists moved faster.

  “It’s going to storm,” one of the women filling the fuel tank said.

  “Do that later. Get the shelter out now,” Core commanded without looking up. “Socket, light the sacrament candles.”

  Socket searched her pockets, quickly at first, and then more carefully. “I’ve lost the matches.”

  With a great sigh, Core paused to take his lighter from his pocket and fling it at her, striking her midchest. “There. Light them.”

  She flinched, catching the lighter before it hit the ground. It flashed gold in her hand as she turned it over and over, staring at it. “Where did you get this?”

  “Who knows? Who cares?”

  “This is Grant’s.” She held it out so Core saw it clearly. It was Hutchinson’s diamond-studded gold lighter. Ukiah realized suddenly that the item was much too expensive for Hutchinson to buy. The lighter must have been a gift to Hutchinson—a present from wealthy Christa. “Where did you get it? What did you do to Grant?”

  Core finally saw the crisis coming and stood up. “I told you to discourage him from trying to see you. The government ranks are full of Fallen; we can’t let them know our true cause or the demons will use the gullible to close us down.”

  “What have you done to Grant?” she whispered.

  “I tested him and left him at the mansion,” Core said.

  “Just say he’s a little shorthanded at the moment,” Io quipped.

  Core turned and kicked Io hard. “Shut up!”

  Socket went pale, clutching the lighter. “You only needed a little blood.”

  “He put everything into jeopardy,” Core snapped. “And Hash had to drag me out of bed to deal with him.”

  “God forbid someone mess up your fucking some pretty boy,” Socket spat. “So you just left Grant there? Left him to die?”

  “I had Parity take him to the hospital and drop him off,” Core lied.

  “I don’t believe you.” Socket pointed to the babies. “You said that we were giving
the babies back. Why do you have them here?”

  “I said God willing, and God is not willing, so we’re not taking them back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t question God, Socket.”

  “I’m not questioning God, I’m questioning you! How can I trust you when you don’t tell me the truth?”

  “I am telling you the truth. This is God’s work we do tonight.”

  “I mean about Isaiah and Kimmie.” She named the two dead babies with a catch in her voice. “You could have told me that Adam killed them.”

  “I needed you focused on your work. Go get the puppy, bring it here, and then go back to the van.”

  Socket looked to the babies. “What are you going to do with them, Core? You said we only needed the nephilim, and it’s not even here.”

  “The puppy is the nephilim.”

  “Where’s the Wolf Boy’s son?”

  “His ‘son’ is the puppy.” Core used fingers to quote the word son, reminding Socket that the Temple didn’t believe Kittanning was Ukiah’s true son. “He transformed within minutes of being in the Persuader.”

  “You used that on him! Why? We knew he was the one because Adam cut off his finger and it grew back.”

  “Adam could have lied.”

  “You could have done a blood test like we did . . .” She fell silent, staring at him in horror. “You used that machine on the babies. My God, where is your soul? How could you?”

  “We had to be sure! This will only work if we have the nephilim. The end justifies the means.”

  “They were babies.”

  “They died to protect the world,” Core snapped. “Light the damn candles. Bring the puppy up from the boat, and then get your ass back to the van.”

  “You don’t want me here because you’re going to kill them all.”

  Core stormed to her and clouted her hard in the face, knocking her down. Reaching down, he tore the lighter from her hand, kicked her in the stomach, and stalked to the candles to light them himself.

  Socket staggered to her feet, hand pressed to her bruised cheek, swaying. “I used to look at battered women and think ‘never me.’ I would tell them again and again, ‘Look at what you’re doing to your children.’ And the good mothers would realize things had gone too far and”—her eyes went to the babies in the carriers, waiting for the ritual to be sacrificed, and her lips moved—“take the kids and run.”

  And she started to move, bullet-straight for the infants.

  Core realized what she intended and turned, pulling out a twenty-two pistol. Both Ukiah and Max came out of the dark, shouting to draw Core’s fire away from Socket. Only Max was closer. Core swung toward Max and fired. The bullet struck Max in the chest. Core shot again, and blood blossomed bright on Max’s leg.

  “Max!” Ukiah shouted and flung himself, snarling, at Core. The maddening scent of Max’s blood filled his senses. He wanted to kill this murderer of babies, this child stealer, this madman. Hash tried to block him, and he went through the big man, smashing him aside, barely noticed. A gunshot close at hand as he caught hold of Core’s throat, the bullet clipping the tree behind Core seconds before Ukiah slammed Core’s head into the bark. There were more gunshots, people screaming, babies wailing, all from a distance as he locked his focus down on killing Core.

  Max’s whistle cut through Ukiah’s awareness. “Move!”

  He acted on blind trust, flinging Core away and ducking around the tree. Hash swung a machete down where he had been standing. The cultists who had held their fire in fear of hitting Core now raised their weapons. Ukiah dashed into the darkness, pulling out his gun. Knowledge that Max was still alive robbed him of the want to kill. While shooting over the cultists’ heads might make them flinch, they were badly outnumbered and the rescue plan was shot to hell. He ran, crouched low. Whatever he did, he had to do it quick, before the cult turned their guns on Max, and he had to be sure that whatever happened, the cult couldn’t use Du-ae.

  Luckily, the Ae weren’t indestructible.

  Ukiah turned, aimed at the large tank beside Du-ae, and fired as fast as the semiautomatic would let him. The first two bullets merely punched their way through the sidewall, creating spouts of gas pouring out of the tank. The third though sparked the gas fumes inside the half-empty tank and they exploded in a deep cough of ignition and roar of flame. The dark suddenly became brilliant as a column of fire leapt skyward, blasting through the tree branches thick with dead leaves. It spread through the dry foliage, crackling and popping, growing until it became a sustained roar, like an oncoming train. Like giant torches, the burning trees lit the night a hellish red, a sudden assault on his light-sensitive eyes. He squinted against the sudden brilliance and emptied his gun into Du-ae itself.

  What saved him was that the cultists fell into full panic. Some rushed toward Du-ae, trying to pluck it out of the heart of flame. Some searched in vain for buckets and pails. Some ran for safety. The empty five-gallon cans began to explode like little cannons.

  Ukiah ran back around, searching now for Max. He found his partner tucked behind a fallen tree, shielded from the confusion, but not for long.

  “Max!”

  “Ukiah.” Max lowered his pistol. “Do you have the kids?”

  Ukiah looked to the altar and saw that it was empty. “They’re gone.” He searched back through his memory to see them move. “Socket took them. Core went after her.”

  “Ah, shit,” Max groaned.

  Ukiah pulled Max up into a firefighter’s carry. “Sam?” He called into his headset’s mike as he ran toward the far shore. Behind him, tree after tree was engulfed in flame. “Sam? We’re going to need to be picked up.”

  “I’m coming!”

  When he reached the shore, the river shimmered with reflected orange and reds. Here the island had been dredged so the river’s bank dropped off straight to deep water. The Endeavor came heaving out of the darkness, turning at the last moment to bring the low stern sliding close to the bank. Sam fought the river current to hold the big boat steady, the water broiling into red pearls.

  “What the hell did you two do?”

  “Max is hurt!” Ukiah leapt the narrow space, landing lightly in the stern.

  “Hurt? How hurt?” Sam cried. “How bad is he?”

  “I’m fine!” Max snapped. “Get us out of here, Sam.” As Sam pulled away from the shore, putting distance between them and the armed cultists still on the island, Max indicated that Ukiah was to put him down on one of the low benches built into the stern of the Endeavor. “I’m fine. Just get me the first-aid kit.”

  “Are you sure?” Ukiah lowered Max to the bench.

  “Yes! We’ve got to get Kittanning back, or they’ll just do this again, someplace else with the other Ae.”

  Assuming Du-ae was damaged beyond human repair, yes, there was Loo-ae yet. The air death. The most dangerous of the Ae.

  Ukiah reached out for Kittanning and felt him speeding away, still on the bow of Socket’s speedboat. “Sam, they’re heading upriver fast.”

  “Okay.” Sam wheeled the big boat in a tight circle. “How clear is the run? Is there anything I should know about?”

  “The Oakmont Highway Bridge, Twelvemile Island, Fourteenmile, and another dam just after Fourteenmile!”

  “Another dam? Where’s the fucking first one?” Sam slammed the throttle to full open and the boat leapt up, throwing curtains of water out on either side that glittered in the firelight.

  “Downriver, just above Sixmile.”

  He ducked into the cabin, leaving her to curse about high-speed powerboats in very small swimming pools.

  Behind them, Sycamore Island burned, reflected in the black waters of the Allegheny River.

  Ukiah found the first-aid kit and hurried back to Max. The rifle bullet had punched a neat hole through Max’s thigh. The sight of it set him growling again.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Max murmured, eyes closed, slumped in the chair.

/>   “I should have killed him,” Ukiah snapped, bandaging the wound.

  “No. You shouldn’t have.” Max gripped his shoulder, gave it a weak shake. “You’re better than him.”

  “He hit you twice.”

  Max nodded weakly, and gingerly touched a hole in his windbreaker. “Hit my vest.”

  Over their headsets, Sam said, “Ukiah, I can see them!”

  “Go on. Kick butt.” Max pushed him toward the ladder.

  They were rounding the bend at Oakmont. Ahead, the Oakmont Highway Bridge spanned the river in an intricate weave of steel supported by five massive columns of stone, creating four water channels underneath. Warning lights blinked under the bridge decking, pinpointing the supports and marking the second channel from the right to be the sailing line.

  Socket and Core were in high-performance speedboats, sleek and fast as bullets, visible as the shore lights turned their spray into waves of glittering pearls, their waves a slowly vanishing gleam. Socket, with Kittanning’s presence in her boat, led. From Core’s boat, flashes of muzzle flare spat out from the prow. Core had a gunman with him, by the size of the man’s dark shape, Hash. The Endeavor was still several hundred feet behind the others.

  “Can you catch them?”

  Sam laughed. “There’s a reason they call those speedboats and this a cruiser. The only way we’ll catch them is by them running out of gas or river.”

  “There is the dam in less than three miles.”

  “There is that. How is Max, really?”

  “He should be in a hospital,” he told her truthfully as he reloaded his pistol. “But he’s right. Kittanning is the key. We have to get him back.”

  “At this speed, we’re going to be out of river fast.” Sam nodded toward the weaving speedboats. “Socket is a much better pilot than Core. He probably doesn’t have her experience in boats.”

  “So she can outrun him?”

  “There’s only so much outrunning you can do in a seven-mile stretch.”

  Socket suddenly veered hard to the left, and kept turning, aimed at the black stone column of the Oakmont Bridge.