The Damned

by L. A. Banks

  “How do you know it was them, real angels, the real McCoy?” Rider said in a quiet voice. “I’m serious, dude? Not like them to send you down there like that without a squad.”

  For a moment, Carlos didn’t answer. Terror seized his words and made him swallow them. “No, man, no. It had to be them. The blue lights. The sky thing they did. Burned out Tara’s corneas—that’s what you said she told you.”

  “All right,” Damali hedged. “Assuming that it was them that sent you, how do you know whether or not something tagged along when you came back up? Like Marlene said, you could have become an accidental carrier of something worse than the contagion, which makes your bouts of sickness make all the sense in the world to me right now.” She put her hands behind her and began pacing where Carlos once had. “You’d just relapsed with Yonnie. Your spirit might have had a fissure.”

  Marlene nodded and stood away from Shabazz. “Sensitive question in mixed company,” she said, looking at Damali and ignoring the others. “You know one way inhabitation can occur, right?”

  “Not since we got to Arizona,” Damali said.

  Carlos sent his hot gaze out the window. The other team members found the floor and places on the wall to inspect. Marlene cocked her head to the side.

  “You know what,” Marlene said quietly, “you felt this coming, D. That’s why y’all haven’t been able to … Uh, just scratch my other theories.”

  Damali nodded. “I thought it was me.”

  “Can we have this conversation with a senior squad only?” Carlos said, his back to the group.

  “These are delicate matters,” Monk Lin said, his gaze nervously darting around the room. “The Naksong will know what to do.”

  “Nothing else to discuss,” Marlene said gently. “It may have come up through you, but if it’s male, like the Chairman, your Neteru toxin will kill it—so it fled. If it’s female, like Lilith, it had to go to a vessel that wouldn’t struggle with you, wouldn’t make you immediately attack it … but it can’t stay away from you while you’re in this near-apex condition. So, people, we have a window.” She looked at Damali. “You sleep with me tonight, and I’ll salt you down real good, sis. If she tries to come back while you’re with me, I’ve got something for her.” Marlene gave Juanita a sidelong glance. “You’d better come with me, too, just in case she comes at him that way.”

  “That ain’t necessary,” Jose said when both Juanita and Damali bristled. “Me and Rider got Carlos.” He folded his arms and looked at Carlos hard. “Don’t take me there on this one, hombre.”

  Rider closed his eyes. “Yeah. Just like old times.

  Dawn hadn’t even crested the sky in full color yet, but the team was on the move. The silence in the minivan was unbearable as it lumbered along the isolated roads, steadily moving higher into the hills on a steep, laborious incline. The frigid early-morning air was so thin that puffs of steam exited everyone’s mouth and frosted the windows. They sat hunched down in their seats, burrowed deep in their thick yak-hair-lined coats, thick woolen pants, and layers of handmade sheep wool sweaters, gloves, and hats as Monk Lin drove.

  Every bump they hit, every rut in the road, made them cringe and say a silent prayer that the weapons and explosives loaded into the trunk and roped to the top of the vehicle didn’t take a tumble. Theirs was a very fragile line between calm and calamity, and everyone had sense enough to honor that subtle truth.

  Rider was the first person to attempt to break the permafrost in the van as he looked out at slowly grazing animals and horseback riders doing stunts in the early-morning sun. “Kinda looks like those guys are trying out for the rodeo circuit, huh, Jose?”

  Jose grunted. Monk Lin peered into the rearview window.

  “In the summer, when the nomads push their droves of livestock up in the hills to escape rain and to graze, there are all sorts of games,” Monk Lin said in a peaceful tone. “Mongolian horsemen, Tibetans, they come from all over to compete. But these people are generally isolated,” he added. “I don’t think the contagion has reached them yet, so please be careful not to infect them, if possible.”

  There was no response in the van from a soul. Rider leaned forward to talk to the monk and to try to restore team unity.

  “Uhmmm … looks real similar to the tribes in Arizona,” Rider said, blatantly trying to bring harmony within the team. He nodded toward a small circle forming and tapped Big Mike on the arm. “Can you make out the drum chords, dude? Music might be bumpin’, might be something for us to blend into our sounds, if we live to see another day. Check out the dudes with the long horns.”

  “Yeah,” Mike said and fell silent again.

  “Rain dancers,” Monk Lin said, trying to help salvage Rider’s desperate attempt for peace. “The Bonpo shaman still arranges ceremonies to the elements—much like the old ways on your lands.”

  “Now, see,” Rider said, snapping his fingers. “Common ground. Half a world away and people are the same.” He glanced around the van but no one responded. “All right, folks,” he said, becoming peevish, “we cannot go see some old master or fight those two very bad elementals we’re looking for if everyone has a bad attitude.”

  Marlene sighed. “I know, Rider, but save it. Maybe the Naksong got something for this?”

  After six straight hours of travel, Monk Lin pulled into a small enclave of yak-hair tents. He stretched and yawned and opened the vehicle door.

  “I have to add fuel to the van, but it is of no use. To continue up into the mountains, we must go with herder guides and take small wagons … you may have to ride horses or yak if I can come to agreement with the nomads.”

  Damali closed her eyes and leaned back against her seat. She wasn’t sure if it was the Juanita issue, the way Jose had reacted, getting slapped—no matter what the reason, or knowing that Lilith may have possibly entered her body; or the bigger problem that Carlos, once again, presented, that was eating away at her nerves. But she wasn’t feeling any of this at the moment. She was sick of the entire mission, and they hadn’t even begun it.

  Carlos allowed his head to hang forward as he stretched his back. Humiliation still tore at him. Why would angels set him up like that? It didn’t make sense, and those guys were supposed to play fair. Not to mention, his business was all out in the street, once again, because Damali just had to put it out there like that. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—knowing that Lilith could have possessed her, or that he’d potentially dragged something up like a virus within him. Or was it that the whole team suspected something was going on again with him and ’Nita? Or the fact that Jose had a right this time to want to smoke him? This was too crazy. Everybody was pissy. They couldn’t go into battle with distrust and bull between them.

  “All right, everybody,” Carlos said in a weary tone. He waited until all eyes were on him … well, practically all eyes. Damali’s gaze was fixed out the window.

  “I’m sorry if I messed up. I thought I got a direct order and followed it. I told the Light that I couldn’t find the book. Been thinking about this thing all night. Obviously, I don’t have fangs and do daylight. I don’t have the blood hunger, I’m not sick during the day like I had been, and I’m not going that way anymore. If I flushed both Lilith and the Chairman out of hiding, that’s what I’m supposed to do. Last I heard, I’m a hunter. A Neteru. So we all need to squash this bullshit and be a team.” He glanced at Damali and then at Jose. “We all know what time it is. I haven’t cast no stones, so neither of y’all should. That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter.”

  Juanita glared at Jose when he leaned forward to speak. She held up her hand in his face, and he fell silent. “Do not even go there,” she warned. “We’ve all got skeletons—but I was cool with yours. So turnabout ain’t fair play?”

  Carlos slapped her five. “I used to say fair exchange ain’t no robbery, but I’m reformed.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Damali muttered.

  “You do not want me to out your shit on
this bus, girl,” Carlos said, jumping out of the van. “I let it go, you let it go. Hear?” He walked away to find Monk Lin.

  “Oops,” Marlene said, chuckling. “Well. Now that the air is clear, I suggest we all stretch our legs and take a pee break.” She got out of the van with Shabazz, who was now smiling.

  Soon everyone had exited the van and Damali was forced to as well. Carlos had gotten on her nerves so badly she wanted to scream loud enough to create an avalanche. Instead of that ill-fated option, she trudged behind the team in a foul mood. She tried her best to remain surly, but the curious children that ran close and skittered away behind parents made her smile.

  They pointed at her with stubby little fingers and shy smiles, and their big luminous eyes were wide with wonder. Monk Lin had a small gathering of herders around him, offering food and tea, and bowing repeatedly. But they didn’t touch him because of his monk status, and kept a respectful distance from the people he’d brought with him, unsure.

  “They don’t see many foreigners here,” Monk Lin told the group as a pretty woman who seemed to be in her forties smiled and giggled behind her hand. “The people here are generous, and believe a monk passing by is a good omen. But it will take much to get her to disclose where the oracle is.” He bowed politely and the woman followed suit, peering around him to curiously gaze at the team.

  Her smile widened as Monk Lin made the rounds and gave each team member’s name, and her expression seemed puzzled as she stared at Rider. She spoke in a soft melodic tone in a language only Monk Lin understood. He chuckled softly and went to each team member one by one, holding their arms, stating their name, and trying to make the woman understand the familial relationships.

  Again, she shook her head no, and asked her questions in an excited, amused flurry.

  “She doesn’t understand,” Monk Lin said. “She thinks you are the father and have many wives,” he said to Rider.

  Rider laughed. “I look that old? Gee, thanks.”

  “No, no, no, it is a great honor she is trying to express. She doesn’t understand why you have no wife, so she says you must be the father of all.” Monk Lin stepped closer to the group and turned to introduce the small clan that had gathered near the smiling woman. “Mei has seventeen children.”

  Marlene and Marjorie opened their mouths, and glanced at Damali and the others.

  “My, how wonderful,” Marjorie said, her eyes wide.

  “Girl, you look good,” Marlene said, meaning it. She glanced at Damali, Juanita, Inez, and Kristen. “Now, she’s a warrior—seventeen kids? Puhlease.”

  Monk Lin relayed the sentiment, and Mei laughed. She pointed at the younger women in the group, a question on her face. Damali opened her hands and shrugged to tell the woman that she didn’t have any babies, as did everyone but Inez, who held up one finger. Again, the woman seemed puzzled and she consulted Monk Lin.

  The monk smiled. “This may help clarify why Mei is having difficulty with your family structure. Let me introduce her husbands.”

  The men in the group gave each other very curious glances. Now it was their turn to scratch their heads and smile silently like Mei once had.

  “Each of these men are brothers,” Monk Lin announced casually. “There were five in the family, no women in the hills, and they all shared very prosperous herds of sheep, goats, and yak.”

  “Wait,” Big Mike said, “that little lady there, uh.”

  “Yes,” the monk said without batting an eye. “She is very loved and very revered in the family, because they came to a good compromise.” His smile broadened as Jose shot Carlos a look.

  “Now, dude, for real, how do they work that out?” Rider rubbed his chin and looked at the brothers, who all seemed pleasant and smiled proudly at their prize, Mei.

  Monk Lin blushed, but relayed the question. The Tibetan brothers laughed and slapped each other, as Mei retreated to uproarious giggles behind her hand.

  “They think you all are foolish, this is why there aren’t enough babies in your family. The eldest brother says you have an embarrassment of riches in your family,” he added, waving before the women in the group. “He believes there should be fifty children or more.”

  Inez covered her face and laughed hard, making the others on the team do the same. “Chile, no!”

  “The second brother is open for a wife who is strong, as he says he must always wait for his youngest brother—who leaves his shoes outside the tent too long. This is how they compromise. Each man leaves his boots outside, and his time alone with their wife is respected. The others tend to the children so no young ones are hurt … uh, while … one of the husbands is unavailable.”

  Damali laughed so hard that she had to turn away as the brothers nodded and gave her shy smiles. “Monk Lin, I’ve heard enough,” she said through the giggles. “We are all up in these people’s business and shouldn’t press our hospitality.”

  He bowed and turned to the group of men and spoke to them in gentle, easy tones. But whatever he said made them burst out laughing. Then they offered the men on the team cigarettes and pieces of smoked yak by passing the items first to Monk Lin, a revered holy man, without touching him. Their trust was implicit, so was their generosity.

  Carlos shook his head and pounded Jose’s fist. “That is deep, man, but would never work in our house.”

  Jose glanced at Juanita and smiled. Damali nodded and let the tension drop from her shoulders. Juanita let out her breath and moved beside Jose. Peace on the team had been restored just that quickly.

  The rest of the team joined in the camaraderie as bits of foodstuff were exchanged, all being careful not to actually touch the gracious herders. Everyone used Monk Lin as a go-between, a cleansing conduit, as not to harm a family that deserved never to have its innocence stolen.

  Damali offered an earring from her ear to Mei via Monk Lin, and people gave whatever they had handy to show friendship and appreciation. Children danced by and looked up at the Guardians that seemed to be giants compared to their much shorter fathers. Big Mike’s sheer bulk captivated them, as did the younger Guardians that seemed as anxious as the children to run in the field for a quick a game of chase.

  “I’m still getting over the shoes thing,” Rider said as the team was invited into the huge, yak-hair tent.

  A central hole sent a column of smoke up and out, but the rank smell of yak butter used to help waterproof it, and the yak chips added to the fire to help keep the embers going with nominal wood tinder available, made their eyes water. However, it was warm and cozy as they all sat on the floor, and hospitality was hospitality. They shared what food provisions they had, but Mei wouldn’t hear of it. She’d prepared butter tea and what seemed like roasted barley, and made her humble offering to the group.

  As Monk Lin passed out small bowls of tea, he offered a discreet warning to the team. “The people of the mountains don’t have much, and roasted barley flour, tsampa, is somewhat bitter. But to decline an offering is to make the offerer lose face.” He hesitated until all Guardians nodded, and kept his focus on Kristen and Bobby. “Their sweetener is salt. Sugar is not well known in these parts, so a bit of salt flavors the tea. But the yogurt is freshly made and is very, very tasty.”

  All heads nodded, knowing exactly what that meant. The tea and the barley was gonna be pretty rugged going down, but chase it with yogurt, smile, and only accept a little bit to show consideration for this woman’s large household.

  Damali watched with a smile as the noses in the group battled for composure. The moment Jose and Rider brought the cups to their mouths, they paused, tossed it back like it were a shot of whiskey, and winced. Mei nodded and clapped her hands, elated. Marlene sipped her tea slowly to hide a broad smile. Carlos held a bowl with two hands, calmly took a sip, shuddered, and grinned.

  “This is good,” he wheezed, trying to offer the woman a compliment, even though she couldn’t understand him.

  Mei apparently did understand a smile, and having a generous sp
irit, she got up quickly to refill Rider, Jose, and Carlos’s cups, much to their chagrin—always offering it through the presiding monk who blessed it first. Bobby looked green, and Kristen was taking teeny sips with shaking hands. Marjorie sipped hers with one pinky out, and swallowed the nasty brew with such elegance that Emily Post would have been proud. Marjorie cast a lethal glare at her children, and they ate without missing a beat. Her husband, however, was having issues, but one glance helped him resolve his resistance.

  The tactical sensors were cool, though. Damali watched Shabazz go to some far-off place in his mind and chew in a steady motion like a cow absently munching cud. J.L. fell in line with Shabazz’s approach, and shortly thereafter Dan got the hint and was able to hang.

  Laughter and banter filled the tent, as did multiple languages and soon after came songs. Monk Lin was the bridge between worlds, filling in the blanks, but after a while much of what was being said required no translation.

  From a distance, the young girls and Mei studied the varied types of hair each woman had, marveling at the differences between Damali’s locks; Juanita’s straight tresses, which matched their own in color and weight; Inez’s soft braids; and Marlene’s thick silver hair, as well as the color variations of Kristen’s and Marjorie’s hair, which was like theirs in texture, but the hue fascinated them.

  They showed off jewelry, different pieces of turquoise and beads. The men showed off bows and small rifles, and Monk Lin offered the Guardian males a warning via a raised eyebrow not to make the tent lose face by pulling out a bazooka. They drew on the dirt floor with sticks, telling of how they had been blessed with large herds, and how they would go up into the mountains in the summer to further expand the herds. It was rutting season now, the eldest husband explained, and soon the flock would double. All was well in their world.