Soultaker

by Duperre, Robert J. ;

  “Now let’s get going,” Asaph said, shooing everyone away. “We don’t have all night.”

  Asaph went back to the keyed shelf while Cooper and his men made toward the chamber exit. Shade joined up with his brothers and moved to the far side of the room, still bathed in the Heartcubes’ light. Shade looked Abe in the eye. “I feel it now,” he said. “Something isn’t right here.”

  “I know what you mean,” Meesh whispered, seeming to be rethinking his earlier skepticism.

  Abe glanced at Asaph before turning back to his brothers. “I know. But we’ll do as the man says.”

  Shade frowned. “You sure that’s smart?”

  “Who knows?” Abe said with a shrug. “Maybe it’s true… maybe this is what we were supposed to be doing all along. But maybe… just maybe…” He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”

  “You sure you’ll be safe down here, brah?”

  “I do,” Abe said. “Asaph’s a good man. I can feel it. I’ll pry, I’ll dig. Perhaps, by the time this night’s done, we’ll have done just as Cooper said. Perhaps we’ll have saved the world.”

  “Maybe,” Meesh laughed.

  “And what about us?” Shade asked.

  “You two stay topside, with Cooper. Help him. Just keep an eye open for anything strange. I’ll come calling if I need help.”

  Shade nodded. For the first time in a while, his orders were simple. “That I can do, Abe,” he said. “That I can most certainly do.”

  18

  “BROTHER RACHET…I DON’T THINK WE ARE…WHO WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE…”

  —ABEDNEGO THE 8TH

  51 SECONDS BEFORE DEMISE

  Meesh stood atop the building directly opposite the gold-domed relic and stared at the crimson fingers stretching across the sky. These moments right after sunset had always been his favorite. They were the most poetic.

  It’s almost over, he thought, gazing across at the distant hillside. Some part of him actually hoped the master of the undead would march over that hill. When he closed his eyes, he saw flailing arms, rotting torsos, snapping teeth, heard gunshots and people screaming. But most of all, he felt the Rush, and glory, that came with taking on the greatest odds and coming out victorious. He flung a stone over the side of the building. It clattered on the ground below and disappeared into a tuft of green grass.

  That really what I want? I’m an idiot.

  Meesh kicked himself off the roof’s raised partition, shook his head in a failed attempt to rid his ears of the dull, constant ringing, and headed for the stairwell.

  With most supplies abandoned during the mad dash to cross the river, Cooper’s army pilfered from the adjacent structures to set up camp. Ancient canvas and large sheets of a musty-smelling rubbery substance were used to create tents and lean-tos. The Outriders dug firepits, arranging stones around them. They used grass and prehistoric furniture as fuel for their fires. The people then sat around, eyes toward the distant hill, and cooked what little food they had left.

  Meesh strolled until he found Kamini. Her makeshift tent was up and stable while a few others still struggled with raising theirs. He cocked his head at her and grinned.

  “What can I say?” she said with a shrug. “I work best when I have to improvise.”

  Meesh thought back to the previous night. “You don’t say.”

  “You’ll help me break it in later, no?” she said, jutting out her hip.

  “Of course.”

  He held out his arm, and she hesitantly took it. Together they headed for the largest of the new enclosures and found Shade, Cooper, and Bertram sitting around the fire. Meesh stopped before reaching them, placed a kiss on Kamini’s cheek. She recoiled.

  “What?” Meesh asked.

  “That’s not what I want,” she told him. “I have no desire to settle down and raise babies with you. You don’t want that either.”

  “’Course not.”

  “Then don’t give me a harmless peck. Give me fervor, or give me nothing.”

  Meesh had to laugh, and in doing so drew the attention of those gathered around Cooper’s fire. Shade waved him over. Meesh whispered into Kamini’s ear: “Just wait ’til later. You’ll get your wish.”

  The hard-edged young woman made a guttural sound in reply.

  When they reached the fire, Shade scooted over to make room. Meesh sat down and crossed his legs. Kamini dropped down beside him, and he gave her thigh a mischievous squeeze. He then noted that other than those still having trouble putting up their shelters, the camp was quiet. Meesh again thought of the thousands of undead lingering just a couple miles away and squeezed Kamini again to relieve his tension. She squealed beneath her breath, and Meesh cooed.

  “What’ve you been talkin’ about?” he asked.

  “Old times,” Shade replied, his gaze far away and reflective.

  “I was simply telling tales of a mutual friend of ours,” said Cooper. The brigand prophet had changed into his simple white shift. The man shared a conspirator’s glance with Shade, then quickly turned away.

  That’s odd, thought Meesh. “Oh yeah? And who’d that be?” he asked.

  “Someone very important to me,” Shade murmured.

  “Wanna elaborate?”

  Before Shade could answer, Cooper briskly stood up. “There is no need for any more glum faces tonight,” he declared. “This is a moment of celebration! This is the realization of God’s will!”

  Celebration, ha! thought Meesh. “I’m always down for that.”

  “Good. I hope we all are.” Cooper nodded down at Bertram, who immediately got to his feet and scurried into the pavilion. The prophet gave Meesh a wink and said, “My men found something during their exploration of this place that you might enjoy. You too, Kamini.”

  “Oh yeah?” Meesh said.

  Bertram reappeared carrying a large metal vat, struggling with its weight. It slipped from his grasp, landed on the dirt with a thud, and rolled until Cooper, laughing, stopped it with his foot. “Bertram, you’re good at many things. Strength was never one of them.”

  Bertram blushed and plopped back down in front of the fire.

  “What’s in it?” Kamini asked.

  Meesh nodded. “Yeah, you got my attention.”

  “Bourbon,” Cooper said proudly. “I opened it and tested the wares, just to be sure. It’s old, that much is for certain, but it’s good.”

  You mean Bertram tried it, just in case it was poison, Meesh thought with a grin. “Bourbon, eh?”

  Both Cooper and Bertram nodded.

  “Why don’t we stop talking about it and pour?” Shade said with a hint of a smile.

  “I’m down, brah.”

  Kamini looked back at the rest of the Outriders. “What about the others?”

  “Let’s just say there are certain advantages to spending your evenings with me,” Cooper chuckled.

  “Amen to that,” said Meesh.

  Bertram uncorked the top of the vat and then took a stack of soup tins from his sack, passed them around. Cooper hefted the container and sloshed the liquid into one tin after another. A bit splashed onto Kamini’s arm, and Meesh leaned into her and licked it off. He sat back up, a sugary taste on his lips, and then tipped back his cup. The stuff was strong, and bitter, it burned going down… but it was good. It made the whiskey they’d had back in Breighton taste like swill. Maybe this time he wouldn’t feel like crap in the morning. How long’s it been since I’ve tasted good liquor? With his tongue pricking from the bourbon’s warmth, he wondered if he ever had.

  The night grew long, and stories flowed along with the bourbon. Cooper told of his time in Lemsberg before he became quartermaster, Bertram of being a mopper for a brothel in Gatlin, and Kamini a tale of a man who’d bet twelve machete tosses against her body in his attempt to bed her, only to slice off his thumb and index finger on the third toss. When she finished that story, she mimicked the man’s horribly surprised expression, and the whole lot of them broke out in a fit of uncontrollabl
e laughter. Even Shade was caught in the hilarity of the moment.

  Meesh felt his brain go dizzy, and he gagged on his own spit. Kamini rubbed his bicep and purred. When he sat back, he had tears of laughter in his eyes. “Oh man,” he said to Kamini, “I wish I’d been there.”

  “Think you could’ve done better?” she asked, an impish twitch to her full lips.

  “Nah. I don’t need tricks to get someone in bed with me. I got irresistible assets.”

  Kamini smirked. “Such as?”

  He gawped at her and stuttered, which got the laughter going all over again.

  Mid-guffaw, Meesh noticed Shade’s gaze aimed toward the concrete bunker fifty yards away. He slapped his brother’s knee, and Shade started.

  “What’s so special over there you can’t appreciate my humiliation?” Meesh asked.

  Shade rolled his shoulders. “Just thinking about Abe. He’s missing out.”

  “Shit, forget him, he’ll be fine. He’s got his fellow baldy to keep him company. I betcha he’s peppering him with questions trying to figure out the damn riddle.”

  “Ah,” Cooper said, “the famous riddles that guide the Knights Eternal. Shadrach told me about them during his long stay with us, but was vague about the details.”

  Shade visibly withdrew.

  “They ain’t so special,” Meesh said. “Pretty irritating, actually. I can think of a lot better ways to tell your soldiers what to do than trying to get them to interpret horrible poetry.”

  “Are they really so bad?”

  “Oh, hells yes they are!” Meesh said. “Cryptic words, muddled directions, lotsa guesswork. Half the time we don’t figure out what we’re supposed to do until it’s almost too late. Not very freaking practical.”

  “How about this time?” asked Bertram. His eyes were half-mast, his body swayed. “You figured it out already, right?”

  “Nope. Same deal. We know we’re where we’re supposed to be and all that, but got no clue how it ends. I guess this is gonna be one of those times when we figure it out after shit gets real.”

  “Really?” said Cooper.

  “Really.”

  The brigand prophet glanced at him sidelong. “Would a fresh set of eyes help?”

  “What, like yours?”

  The man shrugged.

  Shade lifted his hands in a don’t ask me type gesture.

  “We’re not supposed to show no one else,” Meesh told Cooper. “Part of the rules. Abe would kill us if we showed you.”

  “But Abednego isn’t here now, is he?” Cooper said with a wink.

  I like your moxie, Meesh thought. “I guess you’re right. I mean, what’s the harm?”

  “Exactly.”

  Meesh took the folded bit of parchment from his pocket. Excitement bloomed in his chest as he handed it across the fire to the brigand prophet. Cooper opened the paper and began to read.

  Abe slid open the small door on the bottom of the Spear of God and uncoiled the cable within. It was heavy and coated with a smooth sheen, and Erin, the blond lieutenant who had survived fighting the hellbeast, and whom Cooper had ordered to assist in the ritual, came over to help. Together they trundled the cable along the smooth floor of the Heartcube chamber, headed for a strange handle-less door embedded in the far wall. A second cable was already fastened beneath the steel shelf behind where Asaph sat.

  “That’s good,” said Asaph. “You can drop it there.” He swiveled around in his seat, his nose pressed to one of the black mirrors, which now flashed with images. “Erin, please continue with what you were doing.”

  “Okay,” Erin replied, wandering back to the blinding Cubes and ducking down beneath them.

  Abe looked at the Spear of God, standing nine feet tall, its silver luster reflecting the light of the Cubes. The thing seemed out of place down here. While the technology was beyond Abe’s capacity to understand, it was still somehow archaic; the instruments circling the room were covered with crude-looking switches and levers and raised keys, while everything about the Spear of God was smooth, pristine, flawless.

  They’d been locked inside this chamber for hours while Asaph fiddled with this and that and shouted orders to Abe and Erin. It was all mundane labor—switching a wire from here to there, pulling an odd lever, jostling the small platforms that held the Heartcubes until their positions had slightly changed. Nonsensical, that’s what it was. Abe still had no idea why Asaph had demanded him be here to perform duties that any one of Cooper’s followers could have completed with ease, and only Abe’s odd affinity for the man, and Asaph’s penchant for storytelling, kept him from simmering in frustration.

  Asaph glanced up at another black mirror and paused. Abe slumped down in one of the wheeled chairs next to him. Asaph acted like he didn’t notice.

  “Why am I here?” Abe asked.

  The man smiled warmly. “To fulfill your destiny,” he said without moving his head.

  “So my destiny’s to perform mindless tasks?”

  “Ha! No, it’s much greater than that. Patience, Abe. Patience. It won’t be long now.”

  The constant clack of Asaph punching the keys, combined with the endless drone, gave Abe a headache. He leaned on his elbow and rubbed his eyes, almost wishing for another of his visions to assault him. At least it would be a welcome distraction.

  Asaph leaned back in his chair, eyed the fan that spun a hundred feet above them. For a long stretch of time, his mouth moved as if he was talking to himself. His eyes then flitted toward Abe, wide with panic. “Time’s running out,” he said.

  “Huh?” asked Abe.

  Frantically, Asaph leaned over the keys yet again. His fingers danced, and then, after a final, exaggerated stroke, he shoved himself away. His chair rolled backward.

  Abe’s heart clenched. “What’s going on?”

  Asaph pointed to the side, and Abe’s jaw dropped. He clumsily stood from his chair.

  The largest black mirror, which resided between rows of flashing lights, was black no more. Numerous images were displayed on it, each in its own tiny square. The pictures showed different sections of the dead land they had trekked across to find Cooper’s holy place. One displayed the ruined foundations of the long-dead town, another conjured up the barren area around the felled fence, and still another pictured the churning ocean beyond the cliffs. Abe drifted forward mindlessly, his gaze rapt on the four squares in the center of the screen showing multiple views of the River Butte.

  The Morningstar’s army of undead was no longer stagnant. The cloaked demon waved his hands, and thousands of moving corpses waded into the river. The Bloodworms feasted, churning the water, but the feast was too large for all to be devoured. Another of the squares revealed a long view of the opposite banks, and Abe watched in horror as the undead crawled from the water by the dozens and lumbered up the hillside. The picture was so clear, he could see the water beading off them, their hollow white eyes, every blemish on their rotting flesh.

  “What’s going on?” asked Erin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Abe heard the woman approach, but he was too enraptured by the horror on the mirror to reply. Though he did hear her gasp when she reached his side.

  “You see?” Asaph said. “He’s coming. It’s time.”

  “How are we seeing this?”

  “This facility was outfitted with forty cameras and a wireless video feed. A precaution of the times, you could say.”

  “Cameras? Video feed?” said Erin.

  Asaph brushed her off with a wave.

  Abe faced the older man, and with the light of a thousand Heartcubes shining in his eyes, his dreamlike trance evaporated and his heartbeat quickened. All that mattered was saving his brothers. “We have to warn them,” he said. He eyed his blitzer, which was propped against the shelf.

  “No time,” Asaph replied, grabbing Abe’s arm. “Now is your moment to shine. Now is when you save the world. Your thirty-three years of life have led to this.”

  “How?” Abe asked. “Is this the
ritual?”

  “Ritual. Yeah.” Asaph gestured to the handle-less door, and the cable that rested like a dead snake before it. “Now get over there and do as I say.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the only one who can.”

  In his alarmed state, that was all the reason Abe required. He dashed to the door, lifted the end of the cable, and stood there dumbly. There was a loud beep, and a small round portal next to the door twirled open. “Slide the cable in there, as far as you can,” Asaph commanded, and Abe fed the head of the cable through the opening, pushing harder when he met resistance. It seemed to go on forever. Erin rushed over to help him, and eventually they reached a barrier they couldn’t push beyond.

  “It’s in as far as it will go,” Abe shouted over his shoulder.

  “Good. Now listen, this is important. I’ll open the door from here,” Asaph called out. “When I do, you’ll walk inside, that door will close, another will open. Step through, and you’ll see a device that runs from floor to ceiling. There’s a thing that looks like a nozzle attached to it. Fasten the cable to that nozzle and lock it in place.”

  “How?” Abe yelled.

  “You’ll know. Now go! And Erin, sweetheart, I suggest you stay far away.”

  There was another loud beeping noise, and the door slid to the side and disappeared. Abe stepped into a cold gray box, and the door skated shut behind him. The wall in front then parted with a hiss, and steam rose from grates in the floor, stinking like stale eggs. Abe waved a hand in front of his nose and entered.

  The room was relatively small, only twelve feet squared. Abe began to feel lightheaded; his skin itched. Directly in front of him was a tall metal tube that ran from floor to ceiling, just as Asaph had said, its surface flashing seemingly random numbers. The tube he was looking for extended from the cylinder halfway down its length.

  Abe found the cable poking out of a hole mirroring the one in the main chamber, pressed up against the side of the main cylinder. He grabbed it.

  “Hurry up, Abednego,” said Asaph’s voice, and Abe jolted. The voice was coming from a small box embedded in the wall. Abe let out a nervous laugh and grabbed the cable.