Hard Case (Quentin Case Book 1)

by John Hook

  "Have a seat," Saripha invited.

  "I'll stand for now. People gathered around a big table make me nervous.” I probably should have been friendly to a group of people who didn't seem out to dismember me, but the fact was I didn't know anything about them. I liked Izzy and suppose I trusted him to some extent, but the truth was, I really didn't trust anyone or anything in this place.

  "Suit yourself.” Saripha was pleasant, but measured. No doubt they didn't know if they could trust me either.

  "He's trouble," an older man at one end of the table muttered in a gravelly voice. He wore a pressed white shirt and blue pants and matching blazer. He had an officiousness to him, but his eyes were alert, taking everything in, measuring it. He sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him, leaning forward.

  "Yes, I suppose he is, Paul. Anything new can be troublesome. Before we go any further, let me introduce the others.” Saripha looked at me and then I followed her gaze. The first was an oriental woman dressed in a black tank top and sweatpants with flowers embroidered on the sides. She had a small wooden staff strapped on her back. She seemed very young, her black hair drawn back into a ponytail, but her face seemed to belong to someone much older. "This is Kyo. She did not start out around here, but travels a great deal and, thus, gives us valuable information about other parts of this world."

  Next was a large, friendly-looking man with a shaved head and thick hands, wearing a suit. It occurred to me that it was the first time I had noticed someone having a suit as their glamour. "This is Sidney."

  "Over here is Zeon.” Zeon was young, maybe only eighteen or nineteen, idly sketching with a charred stick on a piece of papyrus-like paper. He looked up for a moment without showing much real interest and then went back to sketching.

  "I am Saripha, and you know Izzy. The last gentleman is Paul.” Paul didn't even look up. His body language said he was very uncomfortable. I was beginning to get uncomfortable myself. I wanted more information, but this didn't feel like I was accomplishing anything, and I had a lot I wanted to accomplish.

  "How long have all of you folks been here?'

  Sidney spoke first. "That's not an easy question to answer. Time doesn't work the same here and we tend to get disoriented. Most folks actually lose track of time, except the Witch...” He nodded at Saripha. “She perceived time differently when she was among the living, so the stuff here makes sense to her.”

  Sidney’s reference to Saripha seemed a bit odd, if only because he seemed much too mild a personality for something that was usually used as an insult. I looked at Saripha but, if she registered it, she showed no reaction.

  Izzy spoke up first. “It isn’t metaphysics. We have no real hooks for time here. No calendars, no clocks, no appointments, no train schedules. I’ve even tried figuring out if day and night cycles are the same here, if we have a twenty-four hour day, but I can’t seem to see the careful measurement through. Time becomes pretty meaningless after awhile.”

  “What can you tell me about Rockvale?”

  “I’ve probably already told you as much as any of us know. It’s a town near a point where people enter this world, making it highly probable people will find it. It is the only thing around that is lit up so much at night.”

  “It seems a little odd that it looks like such a classic American small town. I also haven’t seen signs of much diversity—you know, I’m seeing mostly white folks here.”

  “WASP Hell—no shopping malls. Not sure how I got here.” Izzy grinned.

  “I’ve seen a bit more than the others here.” Kyo spoke up. “There appears to be sorting on physically different types. There are ethnic conclaves around different areas. They don’t stay, but often that is how they start out. Then many move on and there are cosmopolitan areas as well. All of them are horrible. There is no racism in the pain inflicted.”

  “What about the demons? Do they live in the town? How many are there?”

  “The demons are tribes.” Izzy jumped back in. “They are pretty primitive, aggressive, atavistic. They live in the honeycomb of shallow caves in the rock outcroppings on the other side of Rockvale, descending towards the desert. They work for a manitor, a sort of regional governor. They tame the new arrivals for the manitor in return for being able to have their way with the humans. The manitor doesn’t care what happens to humans, just that no problems arise in their management.”

  “So the demons run things?”

  “The way a caretaker runs things. Or a corrupt tribal army runs things for a distant and uncaring power center. There are also shades and escorts, who allegedly work for the manitors. They are humans with powers. The demons don’t like them, but they need a good reason to mess with them because they work at the pleasure of the manitor and not the demons. There are also humans, called Shirks, who work directly for the demons.”

  “How many demons?”

  Izzy looked at Saripha and Kyo. They shook their heads. “We don’t know. I’ve never seen more than two or three dozen, but we mostly avoid Rockvale.”

  “So you’ve never tried to pin down this information?”

  “To what end?” Paul asked the question as if it were a demand.

  “Whether this place is really Hell in the metaphysical sense, it certainly lives up to its reputation, at least for former humans. Why do we have to take it? Why don't we do something about it?"

  "Dear God..." I couldn’t help a half smile at the irony of Paul’s expression.

  "Paul, stop it. It's a fair question," Izzy interrupted.

  "No, Izzy, let Paul speak. I want to know why he is bothered by me."

  Paul sighed and leaned forward. He looked at me. I could see he was serious but not disdainful.

  "It is a fair question, Case. But I fear it is more complicated than you are willing to let it be and the result is going to be your death and a disruption of our way of life."

  "People are being tortured and raped wholesale and your 'way of life' is the issue?"

  Paul smiled, but there was no humor on his rough features. He struck me as a man who was old and tired, which said something since people here appear the way they think of themselves.

  "I said it was complicated. We have been, for reasons none of us, least of all me, fully understand, sentenced to what we assume is eternity in a world—maybe a universe—that is dark and full of pain, excruciating pain. There is no hope of rescue. We are abandoned. There is no escape, not even in death. In such a world, you only have what you can eke out, the comfort you find by luck and accident."

  "Right. You are more fortunate than most. Now it is time to help those less fortunate."

  “And accomplish what? Have you even thought this through?”

  “Meaning what?”

  “We citizens made a choice the mass—those many non-differentiated humans—didn't. We chose to retain a sense of self. We fought our way to these hills and, although there is danger here, we have found a place where the demons leave us alone most of the time. If we were to, foolishly in my opinion, oppose the demons in the border town, we would not succeed. They would kill those we fought for and would hunt each of us down, and we would have not changed this world one iota for our pain."

  "You don't know that."

  I turned to Izzy, just because he was the only one I knew. Izzy studied me for a moment." We don't know, but it is a pretty good bet. On the other hand, I think you have a point. We should try."

  I was fidgety, cross, impatient. This was going nowhere. These people were like a committee. I was angry and needed to make something happen. Revenge for Rox? Maybe. I never remember being much of a fighter as Quentin Case, struggling writer. Case the writer never had to. He lived in what seemed a fairly just world where, though he might have a hard time paying the rent if he couldn’t sell a project, life was good. For Case the writer, his action fantasy protagonists did his fighting for him. Something had been triggered here that I didn't even know was in me. I had given myself the body of an action hero, and I w
anted some action.

  Paul was right. I was making things way too simple. I was hoping he wasn't right about the consequences.

  "Look, while I have no doubt I can learn more from you folks, this is not where I need to be right now."

  I headed for the stairs.

  "Case!"

  "I'll be back, Izzy. I'm going into the town to learn more. If I make it back, I'll find your house."

  "Quentin, we need a plan."

  "Sorry, Izzy, you need a plan. I need to do this.”

  Izzy started to protest, but Saripha interrupted.

  "Mr. Case, I wish you well. Do as you see fit. Come back to us if it is possible. We will try to help you if we can."

  I studied her face. There wasn't much to see. She was veiled and unreadable, but I felt strength there. I believed what she said.

  “Thanks.”

  I left the tower and headed towards where I thought Rockvale might be with my staff and dagger and no plan. My editor always tried to get me to outline my stories before I wrote them. I never listened to her either.

  8.

  It was night again when I reached the hill overlooking Rockvale. I wished I had a watch as I had no idea how long the periods of light and dark were, if we were on a 24-hour cycle. The periods seemed longer, but that could be just the intensity of life in Hell. Maybe someday I’d build a sundial and check it out. I debated whether I should wait out the night, see if things were a bit less exciting during the day. I decided there was probably no good time to go into town and I would just be cautious.

  Right. If I were cautious, I’d still be with Izzy’s little co-op board.

  I descended down into the town, coming out near the park again. It wasn’t fully night yet. The sky was black-blue with fingers of orange at the horizon. A human in a dark tunic was adding to the molten substance in the lamps from a bucket using a ladle. The tunic was the same worn by the Shirk I had seen before, helping the demons in the alley. The favored inmates.

  People— “the mass,” Izzy had called them— wandered mechanically through the streets, never showing much emotion. Some were going in and out of shops, which were still open. Demons were about, shoving the humans aside when they got in their way, laughing if the humans lost their footing. However, the demons were going about their own business rather than focused on the humans. I could feel my anger starting up again at the demons and their ugliness and meanness. That wouldn’t be helpful. I had to sit on it. I needed not to be noticed for awhile.

  Staying in the shadows of the park was keeping me from being noticed, but it wasn’t helping me gather more information. I hid both my short staff and my dagger under my shirt, which helped me walk a little more stiffly, like the humans of the mass. I knew I couldn’t look that drab and gray, but I hoped if I could just keep from reacting much, no one would notice.

  Trying not to walk in too direct a line, I wandered into one of the shops. It was filled with wonderful bakery smells. Breads and cakes of all sorts were set out on the counters. I knew I wasn’t hungry but the memory of hunger was there. They were just sitting out, no one working behind the counter. People picked up the warm loaves and tore off a flaky handful, but as soon as it went to the mouth it was gone. A glamour, but one they couldn’t maintain. It wasn’t their glamour, just another cruel yet trivial example of the inhumanity of life under the demons.

  Were the people here always like this? Submissive cattle, participants in their own humiliation? I had to know. It could make a lot of difference to my plans.

  I left the shop, being careful not to hurry or act with purpose. I turned into an alley, looking around to make sure I wasn’t going to run into demons. I passed through the alley and wandered down a back street. I had to be careful because there were fewer pedestrians back here. I walked slumped over, hands in my pockets, and I was helped by the lack of lighting on the back streets. I saw what I was looking for on the other side of a grass lot.

  It was a row of houses, lights in the windows, a neighborhood. People were obviously home, though there weren’t a lot of signs of activity. What I wanted to see was how they lived, what they did, how they reacted when they were off the streets. This was very risky. I still had little idea how things worked here. There could be a demon at each house, like a guard dog. I didn’t have a choice. As long as I knew nothing I could do nothing. I needed intelligence. Of course, if I were caught and captured, I wouldn’t be able to do much either.

  As I ran low across the field I heard demons and flattened myself in the grass. Two demons lumbered drunkenly down the street, forcing a woman to stagger along with them. Her eyes showed her horror, but she said nothing and provided only weak resistance. They cut across the grass about fifty yards away and disappeared into a stand of trees. I knew what would happen eventually. I found myself thinking I was no better than Izzy and Saripha and Paul, refusing to help because it would interfere with what I felt I needed to do.

  I crossed over to one of the front yards and ducked against the wall at the side of the house. I inched along the wall around the corner until I could see into the house. There was an older woman sitting in the middle of the room in a fragile rocking chair and no other furnishings, lit candles about the room, her eyes sewn shut. Torture? Or was this how she thought about herself, part of her glamour.

  I shook my head and moved to the next yard. Right now I needed something a little more straightforward, someone pretending to be normal in this far from normal place. I wasn’t ready to wrestle with the metaphysics of the glamours.

  The next house was much more what I was looking for. A cozy living room with soft lighting and a fireplace. A man and a woman occupied the room, an attractive young couple, though they had that sad drabness that identified them as being part of the mass. She was blonde and would have been quite attractive with some fire in her eyes. She appeared to be in her early thirties. Her body was trim, exercised, and she had a pleasing figure. However, her skin was pale and her hair was unkempt and dry. The man attended the fire absently, just staring. He was maybe in his late thirties, but also in pretty good shape with broad shoulders. His face was well defined with high cheeks and wide cheekbones, but with no definable expression, no evidence of deep thought. Neither was engaged in conversation. I wondered if they were really a couple. Had they been in life and died together and this was still their habit? It was hard to believe any of the mass would couple off here given how withdrawn they are. Maybe becoming one of the mass takes time. Maybe I would eventually become like that.

  I didn’t really think I would.

  I decided on what I was going to do. It was several levels of dangerous if anything went wrong, but I had to know if those we called the mass behaved differently if the demons weren’t watching. From what I could see of these two, I suspected not. The question was, was there a threshold that, if crossed, would change their behavior? Was there any potential of mounting a revolution against the demons? I had to hope there wasn’t a demon hiding in the kitchen.

  I also didn’t like what I had settled on for a test. But I needed something dramatic, unexpected, which would elicit strong emotional reactions if there were any to be had. I came around to the front door. I looked up and down the street and across the distant field to be sure no one was coming. I hoped. The yawning darkness of the badly lit streets could have hidden any number of low-crouching demons.

  I drew a breath and knocked. I didn’t expect anyone to answer, but I heard footsteps and the door opened. The woman stood there in her simple blouse and skirt looking at me blankly. There was no greeting, no invitation. I gave her my full-voltage smile. Still no response. I looked her straight in the eyes. She held my gaze but her eyes were empty. The man was in my periphery. He hadn’t even looked up from tending the fire.

  I grabbed the woman by the shoulders and pushed her back forcefully across the room until I pinned her roughly against the wall. My eyes were still locked on hers. Still empty. I pressed my mouth over hers, forcing her mouth open w
ith my tongue. One hand left her shoulder and slid under her blouse, cupping and squeezing her breast. She made a slight sound, though it was hard to interpret. Other than that, she didn’t resist me, but she also did nothing to participate. Her arms hung at her side. There was no horror or returned pleasure in the kiss, no startle in the grope. I broke away, once more locking on her eyes. Empty.

  I turned to look at the man. He hadn’t changed. He still absently tended the fire. No reaction. He hadn’t even looked over to see what was going on. I spun and kicked a chair angrily, shattering it. I looked at her again hotly. No reaction. The man also continued to stare at a point on the floor just in front of the fire.

  “What is the matter with you?” I shouted at the woman. “Do you talk?”

  “I can talk,” She said meekly. In this context, it almost frightened me. I don’t think I had actually been anticipating an answer.

  “What is your name?”

  She thought for a long time. “Anita… that sounds right.”

  “Does he talk too?” I motioned to the man.

  I looked at him. He still didn’t look up.

  “What is your name?”

  “I… I don’t remember.” There was still no eye contact. “Is it still chilly in here? Maybe I should get some more wood.”

  I looked back at Anita. I already had my answers, but I just couldn’t leave it alone.

  “Don’t you care about anything? Should I throw you down on the floor and force myself on you? Would that get a reaction out of either of you two? Are you afraid to show me your feelings because of the demons?”

  “Do whatever you want. I won’t give you any trouble.”

  “Where were you when I was dating?” I caught myself. Being rude wasn’t going to accomplish anything here, although it probably didn’t matter. “Look, don’t you ever think about standing up to the demons? You know, if everyone stood up and said no, fought back, we might be able to stop them.”