The Bridge Chronicles Trilogy

by Gary Ballard

  “Yeah, bitches! YEAH! I GOT YOU! I GOT YOU!” Mu screamed in triumph. After a few moments of fist-pumping joy, he stopped, as if realizing his joy came at the expense of one or more of Danton’s fellow police officers. “Oh, sorry, Danton.”

  She growled, then her shoulders slumped as she replaced her pistol in its holster. “Had to be done,” was all she said. Mu dropped the shield at last, allowing everyone to get to their feet. The train hardly felt stable, and it certainly wouldn’t deliver them to the meeting on time.

  “We’ll have to hoof it,” Bridge said. “Wake Stonewall up. We need him to carry that mirror-faced motherfucker. It’s time to finish this shit.”

  Chapter 18

  March 12, 2029

  8:36 p.m.

  The train wreck smoldered evilly as they made their way out of the mangled car, avoiding sparking wires and the jagged edges of torn metal. Stonewall immediately ran towards the front car, which had detached itself from the rest of the train and skidded to a halt on its side a good two hundred feet up the line, its edges still glowing orange with fire, its exterior scorched black. The ex-footballer executed a jump of startling agility, standing over the driver’s window with a raised foot ready to shatter the glass. Something halted his kick however, and his shoulders slumped visibly. Bridge caught his eye, knowing what had been found. Stonewall shook his head imperceptibly and jumped down.

  Bridge stopped himself from offering condolences, knowing the big man wouldn’t take them well. Stonewall stalked over and picked up the unmoving body of the cybercop Danton had nicknamed Mask, tossing the body cruelly into a fireman’s carry. “Should be an emergency ladder over there,” he grumbled. The Families had emergency rope ladders and other improvised climbing devices stashed all along the raised parts of the line for quick exits from the tracks. The group made their way to it and climbed down. Stonewall had a little trouble with his heavy load, but managed with no complaints.

  They had landed on Commercial Street, about a mile north of the warehouse on Hewitt where the meeting was to take place. Checking his internal clock, Bridge realized they would certainly be late, by ten to fifteen minutes at the least. “We’d better cut straight across,” he said, pointing down Hewitt towards Ducommun Street. This close to the Warehouse District, traffic was sparse this time of night, but Bridge could hear a commotion behind them. Sirens rang in the distance, signaling the imminent arrival of authorities at the site of the train wreck, authorities they needed to avoid.

  Silent minutes later, they made their way through a hole in the fence around the abandoned utility depot. Though the location had been shut down for three years prior to the riots, it had still become a target of the rioters’ anger, and the Chronosoft LGL had not bothered with its restoration. Graffiti littered its walls, scorch marks grim reminders of Molotov cocktails’ fiery aftermath, every window in the place shattered. An odor of old smoke mixed with dust lay heavy in the air. “This place is creepy,” Danton whispered, as if unwilling to speak too loudly for fear of disturbing the past. They had made it over halfway through the great open parking lot when Bridge caught movement at the corner of his eye.

  “Did you see that?” he hissed.

  “It’s Spider,” Stonewall whispered. “He’s been following us since we left the tracks.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you say something?”

  “Conserving my breath,” the ex-footballer replied with a grim smirk. “This bastardo ain’t light, know what I mean?”

  “Mu, can you get a fix on him?”

  Mu’s normally spiky hair hung limp on his head, drenched in sweat. A line of blood had trickled down his throat, staining his dark shirt even darker. “Not yet. He keeps moving in and out of the shadows.”

  “You can’t just target him magically?” Danton asked.

  “I need to see him first,” the wizard answered. “Even magic has rules.”

  Danton grunted skeptically. “You need help carrying that sack?” she asked Stonewall with genuine concern. He shook his head.

  “How about you give us a shield, Mu?”

  “Already ahead of you, Bridge. He wants to take a shot, he’s free to waste his bullets.”

  “Keep walking then. He’s got about two blocks to make his move.” They kept walking nervously. Bridge felt that tiny trickle of sweat travel down his spine, and suddenly he felt cold, the slightly hot breeze cooling all the perspiration on his body with stunning quickness.

  They crossed Temple Street and passed the abandoned fire station, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible despite being a miniature freakshow: an unconscious cybercop with a mirrored face being carried by a large man and a walking wizard. A few bums commented on their passing, but were ignored. The wide-open parking lot between Temple and First Streets gave them ample opportunity to search for pursuit, but Spider had hidden himself well. Danton had her pistol out, scanning for any opportunity to take a shot, but none presented itself. Finally reaching First Street, they heard a skittering sound as Spider burst from the bushes. His four cybernetic arms propelled him at breakneck speed across the street before thrusting him into theirst sky and onto the roof of the first building to their left, where he disappeared over the red brick walls. Danton cursed as she desperately sought a viable shot, but none presented itself.

  Bridge stated the obvious. “He’s going to hit us from above.”

  The sanctuary of the meeting place filled Bridge’s vision. Only three doors down from First Street, the white stucco walls of the deco-inspired warehouse beckoned to Bridge with the illusionary promise of safety. Each step ramped up the tension, each step bringing them closer to safety, but closer still to the imminent attack. An eerie calm descended on Bridge. As powerful as the cybernetically-enhanced cop could be, did he really have any hope of taking down a technomancer, a cop and a rock hard ex-footballer? Another step and the nerves returned, then another would reassure him of the capabilities of his chosen companions. Another step. One more.

  When it came, it surprised everyone with its speed and ferocity. Spider burst through a window, covering the ten feet to the party in under a second’s time, metallic limbs flailing with disconcerting grace. All calm had left the cybercop, and he shrieked with incoherent rage. His body flattened against the forcefield, the spider talons scratching harmlessly against the invisible energy. Bridge could hear him speaking, though his words were incomprehensible ravings. Danton raised her pistol to finish the job, but Mu stopped her.

  “No! Don’t fire! The only thing goes in or out of this bubble is air. We’d get chewed to shreds by the bullet.”

  “So what do we do, sit here until he gets tired.”

  “I got this,” Mu said. To Bridge he asked, “Is that the place?” Bridge nodded.

  Mu put his palms together in front of him, bowing his head and closing his eyes. The unseen bubble that surrounded the group began to become visible, glowing with a faint orange color. Bridge could feel the heat growing inside the claustrophobic bubble. “Uh, Mu, you trying to bake us?”

  “Shhhhh, I’m concentrating.”

  The glow kept getting brighter, and each talon strike on the outer shell tossed up sparks. Spider seemed not to notice, only renewing his attacks even more. He attacked with everything he had, even slamming his broken left human hand on the bubble. Somehow, he ignored the pain it must have caused, as if he had gone beyond feeling, beyond his body into this other world of incoherent hatred. His clothes began to smoke, his skin where it touched the bubble searing.

  Mu raised his head and snapped his eyes open. A smile curled the corners of his lips. “Ha-doo-ken, motherfucker.”

  The bubble exploded outward, every bit of force sending Spider away from the group on a column of fire. His flying body left a trail of smoke in his wake. He slammed through the large double doors of the meeting place.

  “Good show. I knew there was a reason I kept you are uound,” Bridge said with a self-satisfied smile. “Shall we?”

  The sudden and v
iolent appearance of a flaming cybernetically-enhanced freak show cop flying through the air sent the inhabitants of the warehouse into a state of heightened panic. Bridge and his entourage strode in confidently, walking with all the tired swagger of a conquering army. Bridge stopped in the doorway for full effect, straightening his tie and shifting his jacket up on his shoulders before walking to the center of the room while running a calm hand through his hair.

  The scorched body of Spider created a compelling centerpiece for the scene. Closest to the door stood the mayor and his entourage, a trio of cops geared-up in SWAT-level equipment, with black bulletproof vests, combat goggles, and a variety of pistols, SMG’s and one shotgun. They ringed the mayor completely, shielding him from the rest of the group. To his credit, the mayor seemed undisturbed by the commotion, only a slight downturn at the corner of his lips betraying a crack in his poised manner. If, as Bridge suspected, Soto had anything to do with the Special Squad attack, the politician gave no indication.

  Next to Soto’s group stood Brandon Thames with Paulie and another goon Bridge recognized as Tony the Tiger. Thames cringed behind Paulie in horror. Like most corporate execs of his level, he had no stomach for the grit of the graft, preferring to send guys like Paulie to do the dirty business.

  Standing between Soto and Thames was a solitary figure Bridge didn’t recognize. Wearing an understated brown suit and neutral blue tie, he had the calm assurance of a man at ease in any situation. The violence, the presence of an army’s worth of loaded weapons, none of it seemed to penetrate his cool exterior. His black hair faded back into a severe widow’s peak, framing a face reminiscent of some kind of reptile. His eyes were just a little too buggy, with the frosty indifference of a predator surveying the scene. His five foot ten frame rested calmly in a stance with hands crossed in front of him. Bridge instantly noted the feeling of authority emanating from the stranger; an authority he felt superceded that of both Thames and Soto. Bridge would need to be careful with this one.

  The Families delegations stood around the circle, with AsiaTown holding the spot to the left of Thames. Shen Ju Hui stood with his usual impassive calm, flanked to either side by Guk Hyo and Masa. Masa crouched with that ridiculously large katana drawn, at the ready to dispatch swift retribution on any attackers. Guk waved crossed pistols at the rest of the circle, his sideburns twitching.

  El Diablos had taken the spot next to AsiaTown, and Bridge felt a tiny bit of relief that both Nacho and Chimuelo were in attendance. They stood at the ready, weapons drawn. Nacho stood stock still, arms crossed over his chest with a demeanor of indifference, as if the charred body of Spider was nothing more than a discarded plastic cup. Bridge had to admire the ice in the man’s veins.

  Johnny Cloud re he presented the lone human contingent from the Bottle City Boys, one hand carrying Far-el’s holographic projector while the other bore his pistol. Johnny Cloud had insisted on being the lone physical representative for the Boys, refusing to allow anyone else to put themselves in harm's way. Far-el had protested in vain. Cloud ignored the smoking body, keeping more eyes on the cops and El Diablos than anything else in the room. Bridge knew his finger rested on the holographic projector’s reset button, ready to wipe any traceable connection to Far-el in case of emergency.

  The New Panthers completed the circle. Two hard-looking black men flanked the leader Chahine, but none carried firearms. Apparently, their non-violence doctrine allowed them only batons for defense. This worried Bridge, because the third member of their bodyguard contingent was someone Bridge never wanted to see in such danger. As Bridge had entered the building, Aristotle stood with fists extended in a fighting stance, ready for anything, but as soon as he caught sight of Bridge’s dramatic entrance, he relaxed. His jaw dropped to his chest, his eyes growing wide.

  Bridge stopped over the Spider’s body and surveyed the group, waving his hand to disperse the smoke wafting up from the floor. “I fucking knew it,” Aristotle muttered. “I absolutely knew you weren’t dead.”

  “Hey there, brother,” Bridge retorted. “Sorry about the disappearing act.”

  “I would hug you, but I’m quite positive that you would fire me if I did.”

  “You got that right.” Bridge smiled despite himself, grin stretching from ear to ear. “Glad to see you all could make it. Hope we didn’t inconvenience you too much.”

  “What’s the meaning of this, Bridge?” The mayor shouted. “Who is that?”

  “You know good and damn well who that is and why he’s here, Mr. Soto, as well as who this is.” Stonewall had entered the circle and tossed Mask down to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The unconscious cop grunted with a wet gurgle. “I apologize for being late, but as you can tell by our over-the-top entrance, we were unavoidably detained.”

  “Let’s get this started,” Nacho growled. “It’s time for that puta to surrender to me so we can get this over with and I can get away from this faux Mexican.” Nacho spit at Soto’s feet, causing the mayor’s police escort to flinch.

  “Fuck you, wetback,” Soto responded. “I’m an American.”

  “Now, now, gentleman: and I use that term loosely. We aren’t here to compare our heritage, or measure our dicks. And sorry, Nacho, but we aren’t here to surrender Stonewall or Los Magos to you either.”

  Nacho’s confidence shuddered, his deadly smile faltering. “Far-el told me this was…”

  “Yeah, Far-el told you what I asked him to tell you. I knew you wouldn’t come otherwise.”

  “You’re goddamn right I wouldn’t have come. What is this, some kind of intervention? Who is this suit?” He pointed at Thames, causing Paulie to tighten the grip on his pistol.

  “Don’t be looking at me, old son,” the limey spat back. “I will fucking murder you.”

  “All right, all right, that’s enough testosterone. We’re not here to shoot each other. You could have done that out there without my help. We’re here to end this war, and make a little money in the process.”

  “How you plan on doing that?” Nacho asked.

  “Gentlemen,” Bridge began, “how would you like to be TV stars?”

  Chapter 19

  March 12, 2029

  9:15 p.m.

  The confusion flashed across Nacho’s face like an unpleasant odor had wafted past his nose. “What you talking about, blanco? What TV stars? What’s that got to do with my war?” Bridge savored the confusion, savored the tiny victory of knocking the bulky gangster back on his mental heels.

  “See, you are laboring under the misapprehension this is about some tiny, insignificant beef between you and Stonewall, or between two Mexicali gangs. It ain’t. It might have started out that way…”

  “When you assassinated Pedro!” Stonewall shouted accusingly. Bridge raised a hand to calm his friend.

  “But we’re past that now. This has gone way beyond the barrio, way beyond the subways and way beyond Los Magos and El Diablos. This brought in all the Families, and it involves everyone here. Bottle City Boys disappeared to keep from getting wiped out in their crèches, AsiaTown can’t do any business without the CLED getting involved and even the Panthers, who don’t fight anybody, can’t walk around without getting arrested or shot.” He pointed at the mayor. “You’ve made damn sure to escalate this thing from neighborhood beef to city-wide emergency. You even authorized these psychos,” he pointed down at the bodies of the Special Squad members. “I have no fucking idea what you were thinking there. Look at this fucker. Spider legs. Cybernetic spider legs. Who the fuck thinks that’s a good idea?”

  The silent stranger finally spoke up. “Actually, that one’s on me.” He said it with such a calm, passive smile that Bridge’s hackles instantly rose.

  “And who might you be?” Bridge spat back sarcastically.

  Thames tried to speak up, but the stranger interrupted him. “Martel, head of Chronosoft Research & Development. Pleased to meet you.” That same unconcerned smile contrasted with the predatory glare of his eyes, eyes tha
t assured Bridge this was not one to be fucked with lightly.

  Bridge waved off the hand. “Yeah, I don’t do handshakes. You’re responsible for these loonies?”

  Martel nodded. “In a manner of speaking. My department researches the tech, builds the prototypes and recruits officer candidates from the CLED ranks. Though obviously, we may need to re-evaluate our recruitment criteria. Did you take them down or was it your wizard?”

  It was Bridge’s turn to be confused, a raised eyebrow the crack in his confident façade. “Bit of a team effort, actually. I think Officer Danton here broke that one’s ribs with some help from Stonewall here, but my wizard as you say, lit the spiderfucker on fire.”

  “Interesting. Anyway, continue. You were on a roll.”

  “As I was saying, the stakes have gotten a lot higher than some barrio beef. Our right honorable Mayor Soto here has every bit of authority from the Chronosoft LGL to take this as far as he must in order to maintain the peace. He also has every intention of evicting, displacing and whacking as many people connected to the Families as he can. Would you like to tell them why?” The expression Soto returned gave a clear indication that he wouldn’t. “See, every house that gets confiscated is on land, land that the mayor can buy himself through about a billion intermediaries. Those intermediaries will then need someone to redevelop that land, something another of the mayor’s businesses can do. In the end, your honor here uses the Chronosoft LGL’s money to pay himself twice, indirectly of course, and he gets to redevelop the city of Los Angeles in his image. Let’s not bullshit each other, Mr. Soto, Mr. Martel, Mr. Thames. That’s what this is about for all of you.”

  “I can’t deny the logic of such a scheme,” Martel replied noncommittally.

  “Good non-answer,” Bridge laughed. “It’s ok, doesn’t really matter. We all know Chronosoft didn’t buy up the LGL to have a city full of people that didn’t fit into the profit projections. People like Stonewall, the Families, the Bottle City Boys, they don’t quite mesh with that shiny happy middle class worker drone you want living in your company town. They don’t pay taxes, they don’t follow the rules, and they sure as hell don’t contribute to the bottom line.”