"Hi, I'm Jonathan Cross... and you are?"
"Hank Evans," the two men shook hands with firm yet guarded grips.
"Are you able to get in touch with your commander, Mr. Evans?"
Hank tried to hide his grin. "I guess you could say that. I'm Chief Commander of the United States Foederati Militia. This is one of our snipers, Darby"—Darby and Cross nodded to each other—"and I can't help but wonder, what in the Sam hell could possibly bring you out here looking for me..."
***
The dim space in the Emperor's quarters seemed to darken even more in some way as a tiny Hank Evans appeared on the screen outputting the visual signal of Cross's implant. The air seemed to thicken in a long space of heavy silence. The Emperor took a deep breath and exhaled, releasing the tension building up all around the place.
When he was calm again, Joseph spoke into the microphone designed to broadcast its signal directly into Jonny Cross's auditory nerve. "You will work hard to earn this man's trust, Mr. Cross. But remember this well. Don't become too attached; this is your mission priority. When the time is right, you will kill Mr. Evans quickly and quietly. Remember what is at stake, Mr. Cross, and if you value what I have taken, you know that you cannot fail me. Goodbye, Mr. Cross, and good luck."
***
When Hank, Darby, and the remaining Foederati vampires arrived back at the church aboard one of Cross's trucks, many of the soldiers weren't able to hide their stunned expressions. Hank immediately ordered a private briefing between his highest ranking soldiers and this mysterious Jonny Cross. First he met with his soldiers updating them on the situation at the edge of town and getting up to speed on the events that passed after he left. Clarence still hadn't been found, however, the bodies of three children and two adults had. Cindy Walters and her two preteen children Jimmy and Sabrina and Charlie Carpenter. Finally, worst and youngest of all, little four-month-old Tammy Dickson had been sleeping in her crib when the blaze knocked down the wall that separated her from her mother, Georgia.
"We're doing all we can to console and comfort Ms. Dickson, but who can blame her for being pretty hysterical right now?" Lieutenant James looked up from the table, where he had been staring at his feet as he told Hank about the casualties they'd taken from the fire.
Hank could somewhat imagine what she was going through, but the emotion that should have taken over couldn't seem to come. His mourning for Toby had become a solid unbreakable thing. A wall that separated him from the rest of the world and kept his anguish, despair, and downright hatred deep under cover, waiting for the right target to unleash it on. Hank sat down and went silent for a moment. "Give her her own quarters and see to it that she has everything she needs. When the time is right, perhaps we can give her some consoling justice. In the meantime, I doubt anything else will help but time."
"Yes, sir." James nodded.
"In the meantime, I need you to send out a private message to all the Foederati generals and see what info anyone might have on this Cross fellow. He'll be in here shortly to discuss whatever matters he claims to have come for. Treat him with respect and dignity. I don't yet trust him, but he did save five of our best vampires." All around the small room, the soldiers nodded and said their various affirmatives. When they were done, Hank motioned for Private Stephens to let their visitors in.
Johnny walked in—more like danced in—with a confidence that almost equally charmed and amused Hank. Especially considering his thin short frame. He was followed by two taller, built men dressed in simple black fatigues. The contrast between Johnny and his two "assistants" was a sight to see. Hank waited quietly for the three men to sit down. Once they were seated, he spoke.
"Mr. Cross, I've briefed my men and we're ready to talk. What is it you came here for?"
Johnny grinned, making his face look almost rodent like but with a punk rock air of defiance. "I already told you, Hank. I'm here to speak with you and you alone." He looked around the table at the other men. "No offense to any of your men, here. But I seek a private audience with the commander of the Foederati. I've got info that's pretty dangerous and I don't think it would be a good call for me to trust anyone below the highest chain of command with this. You run a tight ship and from what I can tell, you guys have really stirred shit up with the Empire and I respect that. In fact, I admire it. But even the tightest ships have a hidden leak somewhere, and I'm not gonna go down with that ship, you dig?"
Hank laughed. He did dig, but he trusted his men with his life. He had handpicked every man in the room and was sure each and every one of them would die before they would betray him. However, there was no reason he couldn't make a gesture of good faith. "All right. I'll tell you what. I'll send my men out of this room and you send yours and we'll talk, just you and me. Not because I agree with you, because I don't—every man in here would break every bone in your body or take a bullet for me if I so much as asked them to. But I like you and I appreciate what you did out on the edge of town and I need every advantage I can get in this war, so if you have information that I need, I'm willing to do what it takes to get it. But... if you so much as reach across this table without your intentions being understood, I will snap your neck myself, and each and every one of your people will be detained. I want to trust you and I think I might be able to do that. But I have to set some guidelines if we're to move forward from here."
That sly grin on Johnny's face doubled in size. "Right on. Sounds good, man. That's all I'm askin' for." Hank returned Jonny’s infectious grin. His guard was slipping fast. He liked the kid too much. Hank looked around the room and nodded, waving the men away. Each man in turn got up from his seat and headed for the door, Johnny's men following suit. When only Hank and Johnny were left in the room, they each waited in silence for the other to speak. An odd air of tension rose that hadn't been there before. Hank could see it in Johnny's eyes and then just as quickly as it came, it passed. Johnny cleared his throat and began to speak.
Chapter 10
Beyond Stable Vision
Vague dreams cascaded into darkness as Simon opened his eyes to find himself lying alone deep in the caverns of the hive. He hadn't ever really considered the idea that they would sleep together, so he didn't have any preconceptions to draw from. But he was sure if he had, he would have at least expected Jackie to still be in his arms waiting when the dawn of moonlight came the evening after. He sat up and looked for any signs of her having been there. Perhaps not all his dreams had been vague? And with that, the old mortal moral conflictions arose again and he was surprised to find that he did not truly feel any guilt or regret for what he had done. If he had actually done it at all.
The room revealed no sign of her, save for her aroma. And so it hadn't been a dream. Simon smiled and then sighed. Having never had much of a moral compass in his mortal days, having one so strong in his immortal nights was rather confusing sometimes. He wasn't sure which instrument to trust. For now, he decided to let the night carry on and see what thoughts and feelings it brought him.
He dressed quickly and slipped out into the main cavern of the Hive. Ancestors flew past him in droves, headed in and out of the place. Many of them were likely doing the bidding of the Queen. Thinking of her made him change course toward the Queen's chambers. When he entered the small cavern, he fought hard to hide the surprise at how clearly weak she was becoming. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would last through the entire pregnancy.
"Yes, my child, I will last that long and no more."
Simon tried to speak, but the clear statement of when she would die and knowing it would be so soon caught him off guard. He wondered if anyone is ever really on guard for such a revelation.
"Listen. Don't grieve for me, child. Your brother, Ishan, is in danger. I'm not sure if I can save him. The possibilities are too vague to see clearly. But it will be soon. A man—you mustn't reveal this information to anyone else yet—a man posing as a Foederati soldier will try to kill Ishan. He will carry a stake capable of drainin
g our kind much faster than the Foederati stakes. You must stay on guard and make sure that only those I approve enter these chambers. Do you understand, child?"
Simon had been staring at the floor as he listened, he quickly locked eyes with her and saw her fear more nakedly clear than ever before. "Yes, I do. I'll make sure only our most trusted know and that extra security is put in place."
The Queen sighed and then her face became one of pity. "I didn't want to have to tell you this, but it will save you much time. The young one you've become close with... Jackie... She has left the Hive. Her path has led her beyond my stable vision."
The air around Simon felt compressed. First the Queen predicts her death, then Ishan's, now Jackie is gone. He takes a deep breath.
"You want to go to her, don't you?"
Simon nodded.
"If you go, I can't help you. And..."
Simon looked back in those deep inhuman eyes. "Yes?"
"I can't guarantee that Ishan will live."
Simon fought to hold back the tears he knew were his goodbye to Jackie. He couldn't leave Ishan's side. And he certainly couldn't take him with him. Even with the vision the Queen had seen, this was the safest place Ishan could be.
"Perhaps she will return, my child. If she has any sense of value, she will." The Queen smiled then and Simon remembered how much he loved her.
"Maybe. I'll go and make preparations for what's to come. Don't worry, Mother. I won't let anyone hurt you or Ishan."
The Queen nodded, her smile turning into a grimace of pain as she tried to lie back down.
***
Frank Garcia took up about two thirds of the big blue leather front seat inside the old Lincoln Towncar speeding down the highway. Cigarette smoke clouded the inside of the car and Frank coughed almost as regularly as he inhaled from the stubby Marlboro dangling a mile of ash between his index and middle fingers over the steering wheel. Twangy music rang out from the stock speakers as Frank hummed along without a care in the world. It had been at least a week since he last showered.
Why should he care? That was part of being on the road. He'd won a small fortune from the Illinois Imperial Lottery just shy of two years earlier and he still had a cool hundred grand to burn through. No job, no family, no friends, just Franky and the road. And the road sure didn't give a shit if he showered. He laughed as he flipped the long trunk of ashes onto the dash of the Lincoln and then his laughter turned into loud grueling coughing. His body shook like a palm tree in a tropical storm and tears began to stream down his face involuntarily from the extent of it.
He reached into the glove box and pulled out a big white rag, wiped his eyes and then his mouth, spitting into the rag. "Goddamn cancer. Not now. I was having a good time just fine without you, you prick." He rolled down his window all the way, letting a gush of wind cool the inside of the car and threw the rag out then rolled it back up.
He was nearing Chattanooga, Tennessee, he could tell. Didn't need any signs. The declining road and the approaching dark mountainous horizon gave it away just as well. Dots of yellow and white light littered the hills below outside of the highway. It looked like a realistic diorama from up here as he drove. And at that moment, he wasn't sure which one he wanted to run out of faster: his money or his breath.
Garrish gas station and restaurant lights soon filled up both sides of the road and Frank decided it was time to stop off for a bite to eat. He took the next exit and pulled out onto a semi-busy road looking for something low key and cozy. Before long he found a small truck stop cafe with an "Open 24 Hours" sign in the window. Judging by the mostly bare parking lot, it looked like just the place. He parked and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car and going inside.
A chewy overcooked ribeye with mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, steak fries, and a reluctant shower later and he was walking back to his car, lighting up another Marlboro. He missed the days when he could sit and smoke in comfort after a good meal inside a place like this. But those days were gone and with the growing pain in his chest, he knew why. Still, his remaining days were short and every last bit of comfort he could find made all the difference. The sky was dead black with cloud cover as he pulled out his keychain looking for the Lincoln's big silver key.
"Hey, mister?"
Frank nearly jumped out of his shoes at the sound of her voice. It was young, vibrant... almost vicious. He looked up from the mess of keys in his hands to find a teenage girl with black hair and blue eyes. She was standing by the passenger door of the Lincoln with an exaggerated stance of innocence. "Uh... yes? Can I help you?"
"I hope so. I'm a long way from home. I was hoping maybe you're headed in the same direction. Maybe you could give me a ride at least as far as you're going."
Frank stared at her for a long moment. She was beautiful, but far too young, and probably far too much trouble. "Where you headed?"
"Utah... Cedar City."
"Oh wow... That's quite a ways to have to go."
The girl gave Frank a sardonic grin in reply.
Frank sighed. "Well, to tell the truth, I wasn't headed that way at all, but I really hate to leave you out here without knowing you found a ride." He paused thinking to himself for a moment. "Tell you what... what the hell. I'm not out here on the road out of need and I don't have a true destination in mind, so why don't we see how close to Cedar City this big ol' boat'll take us, eh?"
The girl smiled, showing a pair of dangerously inhuman fangs and Frank, for reasons he didn't understand at the time, pretended he didn't see them. Instead, he reached out his hand to shake, "Name's Frank. Frank Garcia. What do I call you, miss?"
"Jackie... Jackie White." Her grin was contagious. Frank mirrored it on his own face as he unlocked the driver side door of the Lincoln and hit the electronic unlock button and the two climbed into the car.
Chapter 11
Hidden in Plain Sight
The image of Shanene struggling to get away as the tall blond menacing vampire drained her dry had woken Rosadelma in the middle of the afternoon for five days in a row since the night that it had happened. Each time she would jump from her cot into the air, nearly tearing through the wall in front of her before she would realize it was just a dream, a nightmare. And the realization would hit her all over again that Shanene was gone and so was her murderer.
Only he was still alive.
There is a certain kind of furious that goes beyond words. That was what Rosadelma felt toward these new soldiers who had come from nowhere and obliterated her only chance at revenge. Now she would probably never find him. It had taken strength and reserve she didn't know she had not to destroy them all when the smoke cleared and the Imperial vampires were left as dust. But she held on. Somehow. Now, every time she woke up in a thick sweat like this, ready to tear the throat out of anyone in reach, she fought the urge to do just that to these new recruits.
Furthermore, she'd known from the beginning that something about them wasn't right. How they had shown up at just the right time (even though to her, the right time would have been before Shanene was murdered right before her eyes), the fact that no one had ever heard of them before, their technology, and just the feeling they gave off when she was in their presence. It just felt wrong.
Rosadelma slipped out of her room into the main open hall of the church and wandered over to the Imperial altar. A statue of the Emperor hanging on the cross like Jesus stood in the forefront of a huge Imperial flag with its one white star and black and white stripes. Even a vampire as young as she could remember all too well what things were like before. She hadn't much cared then about the humans or their republic. Their freedom or their democracy. She still didn't if she was honest with herself. But the hatred growing inside of her—the one strongest of all—even stronger than the one for Jonny Cross and his soldiers—was bringing her as close to caring as she could ever be for such a thing.
She cared about Shanene.
And this Empire, this war, had taken her away from Rosa. So,
maybe she could still have her revenge. If she couldn’t find the one truly responsible, she could target them all. The Imperial soldiers, the vampires, the Emperor, the whole damn lot of this god forsaken empire. Kill every fucking one of them. And who knows, maybe, just maybe she would find that big blond Nordic-looking bastard. Rosa prayed to the only god she had ever truly known then and made a vow before Heaven and Earth. If she had to die in the process, she would do everything she could to hold each and every creature that followed the Emperor responsible and avenge Shanene. When Rosa opened her eyes, she saw the crumbling dust fall from her hands where the cross-bound Emperor’s legs had hung, leaving behind only his knees and above.
***
After hours of exchanging intel with Jonny and his men, Hank finally got some time to himself and slipped away to his quarters. Once inside, he reached into his hidden compartment and pulled out a vial of blood, drank it swiftly, then sat in the big leather chair and tried to relax. But even with his eyes closed and exhaustion setting in, the face of Joseph Caesar filled his mind. He thought back to the vision he had from Diana's eyes. Her memories of Roger Tresney and the revelation that came with them. Hank wondered how long it had been going on. How long Roger had been trying to get her to listen to him. And all along Hank didn't have a clue. The things that happened when he wasn't present, the things he would never know, Hank felt then, could have filled the vastness of space.
Rising From Ashes: Empire of Blood Book Three (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) Page 5
