by Bob Williams
“Oh, Rebecca.” Shen turned to her in a colorless blur. Taking a fist full of Rebecca’s long black hair, he threw her from the roof. It wasn’t too much of a fall, but unfortunately she landed cleanly on her head, cracking her skull and breaking her neck. She died instantly.
Shen looked down at Rebecca’s body, twisted and lifeless in the parking lot. He would get to it in minute. He was expecting visitors.
From where Shen stood, he faced the front entrance parking lot of the former nightspot. Across North Fourth Street was the vacant Budd Dairy Co. building. In every other direction there were mostly residential homes and one or two other unmarked buildings.
What happened? Father did booming business in this very location. Can so much happen in thirty years?
It really was of no consequence. This was a mission of revenge. Yes, the Seventh Son location was important to him. He didn’t care that tactically it wasn’t the most secure. Nothing was going to touch him or Rebecca.
Rebecca!
He casually stepped from the flat roof and landed soft as a feather on the pavement next to his charge.
Dear Rebecca. Must you continue to speak out of turn? I have done so much for you, yet there isn’t quite the even modicum of fear and respect that I desire. I truly don’t want to continue this line of activity. Killing and resurrecting you is becoming tedious. Do improve your attitude, my dear, or the next time may just be the last.
Admiral Shen knelt down beside the still-warm body. He put his hands under each armpit and pulled the body up and into a crude sitting position. Her head lolled, the skull being separated from the spine, and it fell back over her shoulders like the hood of one of his old Columbus Police Department hoodies.
Her colorless lips parted awkwardly to display broken shards of her remaining teeth, while lifeless eyes glared at the Admiral, upside down and expressionless. A small portion of her tongue lay next to her in a pool of dark crimson blood. This caused him to stop for a second. Shen smiled. He liked Rebecca. She had so much potential. She had skills that would help this mission succeed. He knew it. He wasn’t going to let up on her, though. He needed her completely ready when she was called upon.
He placed his right hand upon her forehead and the left gently over her heart. He closed his eyes, not because he had to, but because in the all the movies he watched as a child, that’s what you did in a moment like this. You closed your eyes and concentrated real hard, and that’s when the magic started to happen. He just wanted to make sure he was doing it right, if anyone was looking. Which, of course, he knew they were.
Rebecca’s head lifted as if raised by a pulley as the inner workings of her spine, muscle tissue, and cartilage fused together. Her teeth and tongue returned to their original form and the rest of her brutally damaged body followed suit. A compound fracture of her left femur returned to its rightful home beneath the skin, which completely healed along the way.
Rebecca opened her eyes, feeling only a slight electric tingle on the tips of her toes before it dissipated. The bright sky—a blur of blue, gray, and white hues—caused Rebecca to quickly shut her eyes and fight the nausea that was boiling in the pit of her stomach.
“What ... happened?” she stuttered.
“You suffered a bit of a fall, young Rebecca. A knock on the head. You’ll be just fine. But you have become more than a bit careless of late with both your actions and your words,” Shen said in a caring yet firm tone. Like a father to his daughter.
“Yes, Admiral. You are correct, as always. You carried me from the darkness. You’ve shown me wonders. I am sorry. This is your vision. Not mine. If not for you I would have starved to death a long time ago. I pledge to you that I will do better.” Rebecca was still a bit discombobulated, but she understood right away that she had not fallen on her own. She grasped in the clearest fashion possible that this moment was a lesson. That she needed to get her shit together or the ride on the carousel might end soon. Permanently.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Rebecca. That’s my job. But only when you make me. Now come; our visitors will be arriving any minute.”
“Would you care to elaborate, Master? You’ve mentioned these visitors a couple of times already today.”
“The first of Doctor Midnite’s crusaders have been travelling from Toledo for a couple of days already. I feel them. I can’t tell their numbers specifically, but it’s a small group.” Shen was peering outward as if straining to see them.
“What do you mean the first of Midnite’s crusaders? We’ve known about this Prescott asshole and his bunch for a week now.”
“Yes. This is true, Rebecca. I say first because we will have the pleasure of squashing these bugs long before Prescott arrives. I know all I need to know about Mr. Prescott, Mr. Cole, and Ms. Shields. Even the dog. There are as good as dead. Same as these little shits from Toledo.”
“A dog! I don’t care what kind it is, I’m gonna fuckin’ skin that bitch and make it into a new winter ensemble.”
“Goddamn it, Rebecca!” Shen spat. “Pay a-fucking-tention. Just stand here and shut up. Watch with me.”
Dejected, Rebecca stood there and watched with him.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice that Demeter was inside you.”
The silence between them as they stood next to one another was profound. You could hear a pin drop in Cleveland, she thought.
Five minutes ...
Ten minutes …
Fifteen minutes ...
Watching. Waiting.
Forty-five minutes ...
Fifty minutes ...
Fifty-two minutes.
“There,” Admiral Shen said. He pointed down North Fourth Street.
“I don’t see anything,” said Rebecca. “How can you even see with all the crap in your way?”
The Seventh Son Brewery was not particularly helpful for long-range scouting, as most if not all of the residential homes in the direct vicinity were taller than the brewery.
“I still have abilities, Rebecca. Trust me. You will see them soon enough, but here’s a quick glance.” Shen placed his index finger on her temple and Rebecca immediately felt the familiar current of electricity. The tingle travelled from the exterior of her temple through the nerves, then hitched a ride on the blood highways of her brain and eventually parked itself in her eye sockets.
From that point, she was able to see clearly for miles, unobstructed. She did see them. Two green army-style Jeep Wranglers in close formation were progressing toward the Seventh Son at high speed.
The front Jeep was being driven by an older man. Middle aged with salt and pepper hair and a full but moderately unkempt beard.
“That fuckin’ guy has a story for sure,” Rebecca muttered. The remaining passenger was a tad thick, but looked to be a more than competent soldier.
Riding the rear bumper of the front Jeep were the two remaining warriors. A wiry man with a thin mustache, and next to him, a large man of about two hundred and fifty pounds who wore a Stetson cowboy hat.
The vision she was able to use told her all of those details in the mere fifteen seconds before the Admiral pulled away the precious sight.
“There are only four of them. I don’t understand. What are they hoping to accomplish?” asked Rebecca. “It’s suicide.”
“Yes, it most certainly is, Rebecca. Really, though, these Regulars are nothing more than a collection of fools. I should know. I used to be one. Hot headed. Actions fueled purely by emotion. No tactical care or planning will always lead to death. I was able to stay alive in a dangerous profession for years because there was always a tactical plan.
“You can feel the adrenaline-charged idiocy emanating from these low-lyer skin bags. Clearly Doctor Midnite’s broadcast got these men riled up. They most assuredly defied some higher-up asshole, jumped into their vehicles, and are driving straight to their deaths. Like mice thinking they are so close to getting that big tasty bite of cheese.”
“Until the trap breaks their necks.”
“Indeed, Rebecca. Until the trap breaks their necks.”
One hour and twenty-three minutes later, as Admiral Shen and Rebecca stood atop the Seventh Son Brewery, they were finally able to greet the guests they’d waited so patiently for.
The two green Jeep Wranglers pulled into the small front parking lot of the Seventh Son and came to a stop at an angle. The rear vehicle came to a stop half-a-Jeep length from the lead, forming a wall. Both of the soldiers in each vehicle exited quickly and efficiently, already armed and prepared. They took up a defensive position at the front of the lead Jeep and the rear of the other, respectively.
Rebecca whispered, “So Geezer and Wiry are the senior officers.”
“I’d say only the senior gentleman is in charge.”
Shen looked down upon the four men. As he began to speak, Wiry took a shot at him. Shen raised his hand and the bullet came to a dead stop in the air about an inch from his hand. Shen, with his thumb and index finger, plucked the bullet out of the air and inspected it.
“My, my my, that is a rather poor introduction.” He laid the bullet flat on his hand and with his other flicked the bullet away, killing Wiry instantly as the bullet pierced his heart and exited his back.
“Whatcha gonna do now, Geezer?” yelled Rebecca. “Are you, Beefcake, and Cowboy gonna take us down?”
“Oh, shut up, Rebecca,” growled Shen.
Shen thought calling the man Geezer was disrespecting his opponent. And he did respect these men for accepting the challenge. However, the steel arm of the trap was indeed going to break their necks.
The other two soldiers had come around quickly, collecting their fallen comrade and taking him behind the Jeep-wall.
“What is your name, sir?” Shen asked the older man.
“Jonathan Poplovitch. My friends call me Pops,” the man said in a rather world-wearied voice.
Rebecca was right. This man Pops does have a story.
“Welcome to Columbus, Pops.”
“I believe I said my friends call me Pops. You, Admiral Shen, are not my friend. You are a pillager and a murderer.”
“Well, I honestly didn’t expect us to devolve into name-calling so quickly, Jonathan. But I guess that is where we have arrived upon in this confrontation.”
“It would appear so. We’ve come a long way. You were a difficult man to find. And you just killed one of my closest friends. So I’d say this is about as far as this relationship is going to go. Frankly I thought this would be more difficult. You are one arrogant son of a bitch.”
“Big words from someone who’s been dead since you put your foot to the pedal in Toledo. Was there anyone you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to?”
“I don’t believe that’s any of your concern.”
Cowboy shouted, “Can we quit fucking around here and finish the job we came here for? Please!”
“Gentlemen, this has been amusing. And you did provide my friend Rebecca and me a bit of a break from the monotony of our normal day. But now I must confess I grow weary of this. It has been ... well, it’s been very disappointing. I’ll see you in Hell, Jonathan.”
“Not so fast, Shen. I have a bullet with your name on it right here,” said Poplovitch.
“I’ll tell you what, Pops. Get past my guard and you’re free to take your shot.”
Jonathan “Pops” Poplovitch watched as Admiral Shen’s face contorted into the most sinister smile he’d ever seen. Shen then produced a whistle that had been buried within an inside pocket.
He put it to his mouth and blew.
Across the street at the Budd Dairy Building, there was a low rumble. In the moment it took for the three men to turn toward the noise, Admiral Shen and Rebecca disappeared from sight and retreated to watch the massacre from within the building.
Moments later, at one of the residential properties that lined East Fourth Street, the front door disintegrated into splinters and Freaks violently trampled each other to get out into the street.
Across the street at the 25,000-plus square-foot Budd Dairy Building, the doors again gave way to the strain as hundreds of Freaks emerged from within and flooded out into daylight, descending upon the three living dead men.
Cowboy screamed, “Pops! Go!”
Beefcake and Cowboy took out as many as they could before they were overrun. The last they saw was Pops flying through the front doors of the Seventh Son and the loud ding of a cowbell. Which signified the beginning of his fight and the unfortunate the end of theirs.
PLUS ONE
“Meredith! Have you gone mad?” erupted Vincent. “The girl is tainted. How dare you not only release her from confinement, but then escort her here—it is unconscionable.”
“Meredith,” said Caster, “while I was willing to hear you out, this is most unorthodox. And dangerous.”
“Guards! Take Meredith and her associate into custody. NOW!” said Nathan. His voice was dripping with fury.
“She has a name, Nathan,” Meredith hissed. “She has a name,”
“Everyone!” cried David. “Everyone! Please return to your seats.”
“I will do no such thing!” insisted Nathan. Still facing Meredith, he spat, “I will not have this meeting, where we are to make crucial decisions about how we go forward in this nightmare, hijacked by a rogue member and her insane ideas!”
“How dare you address me with such disregard for my status. Nathan, I have served this council for a very, very long time. No commandant has ever spoken to me in such a way.”
“Mere moments ago, Nathan,” said Caster, “you did admit she had earned the respect to say whatever she wanted. Don’t you think it would be prudent as our commandant to hear her out before shutting her off?”
Nathan said nothing.
“Let me rephrase,” Caster continued. “Sit down, Nathan, and listen.”
“This is madness,” said Nathan. “David? Vincent? What say you?”
Caster spoke again. “Maybe you weren’t listening. I want you all to sit, be quiet, and let Meredith speak. I know for a fact she’s earned it. Then and only then, Nathan, will you make the final decision, after we confer.”
Caster turned to the two Protectorate guards holding Meredith and Emily Prescott. “You may release my esteemed colleague and her guest.” The two soldiers seemed momentarily confused before Caster cleared the issue up for them. “NOW!”
Meredith shrugged herself away from the soldier and went to Emily’s side. “Come with me, dear. It’s going to be all right.”
It was so deathly quiet in the room that a feather floating on the air could have been heard landing upon the table.
“Guard, could you please bring another chair to the table. Thank you.” The soldier did as requested and brought one of the solid wood high-back chairs reserved for guests or other protectorate committees, which used the room and had more members. What was going on now was unprecedented.
Meredith spoke in a most frustrated tone. She was not used to this type of outright insolence. “As I stated earlier, this is Emily Prescott. While she was never designated as a Point of Light, she led an exemplary life. Is was her complete misfortune to be raised in the Prescott home. No disrespect to your brother, my dear; we know he is not a natural Prescott.” Emily nodded but did not speak.
“It has been well documented by the Scribe what the Prescott family has done. Their arrogance and blatant disregard for the sanctity of human life led to what the low lyers call the Descent. They worked in conjunction with one of, if not the most vile demon of The Eighty-Eight. To this day, through all the investigating, thousands upon thousands of hours, we still do not have any idea how Chaos made it through from the Neverrealm or how he hooked up with the Prescotts. And more questions. How was this Black Hand outfit conceived and grown to such a number without us, the Protectorate, ever discovering it? It is very, very troubling.
“Emily is, in fact, tainted. We all know this. Chaos and the Black Hand used her as the catalyst for the Descent. As you
all know, we still do not have the reasoning behind it, but the Superior sent it down that Emily, upon her death as a low lyer at the hands of Chaos, was to be intercepted and brought to the Higher Grounds.”
“A decision many of us to this day still do not understand,” said Nathan. “She can walk on water for all I care; if one is tainted, they must go to Hell.”
“Nathan, my goodness, man!” exclaimed Caster. “The girl is sitting right here among us. Can you find no better way in which to speak?”
“Apologies, Ms. Prescott.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Emily, then. My apologies. These are trying times for us all.”
“Meredith, as has been already stated, I would like to add once again how highly irregular this is. What are you and ... Emily hoping to accomplish today?” said David.
“I am so glad to have finally been asked a question by my esteemed brethren of the Protectorate Council, rather than being insulted and badgered like a commoner,” Meredith said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Meredith,” said Caster, “let us all agree this conversation spawned early misgivings and some rather startling revelations, but let us attempt to move forward, please.”
“Of course, Caster. When I heard that the Prescott girl, who we now know wishes to go by Emily, was intercepted and placed in confinement, I knew at once the Superior believed she was of value to the fight. She was tainted with the essence of Chaos, but after my first conversation with her, I knew for certain she was no danger to me or the Higher Grounds.”
“Then how was it that she came to cross?” Vincent asked.
“I am to blame for the crossing. It is, in part, why I brought Emily here. As part of the greater scenario I admit to this occurrence and accept correction.”
“So it will be. Proceed,” said Nathan.
“As more information surfaces from the Scribe, we are discovering similarities on opposite sides of the spectrum that tie Emily and Shentaka’s actions together. Emily was confused and afraid when I went to see her a mere three days after her murder. The essence of Chaos was still within her. Challenging her. Affecting her. Despite her mental and physical disorientation, she was able to locate Prescott, who we now know is her brother.
